The Heir
by La-Matrona
Summary: Hermione Granger's life is forever changed one night by an innocuous spell and a timely Professor. KindaPureblood!Hermione and Not Quite a Marriage Law. I just could't get my tropes right. Either way, the resident Know-It-All and the Bat of the Dungeon collide in this AU, SS/HG story about what happens when you're related to the Dark Lord. Cover art by Freya Ishtar.
1. Fenestram in Praeteritum

**A/N:** Hello! I'm LavonnaLlama and this is _The Heir_ , an AU, pureblood!Hermione, Dark, hopefully sexy, ploty, adventure. It's completely outlined (40 chapters!) with 13 chapters and about 50k words written so far. I've every intention of finishing this one and hope your reviews will spur me on. Please feel free to ask me any questions and let me know if you see anything that needs editing. I plan on updating twice weekly on Tuesdays and Fridays. Much adoration for JK, who is my role model and owns the characters and Harry Potter universe that I spend my time playing in. Now, to the story! Trigger Warning on this Chapter for Rape

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 **Chapter One: Fenestram in Praeteritum**

 **May 19, 1997**

The library was always deserted late in the evenings, with only the most competitive of Ravenclaws to be found there among the dusty stacks of books. That was why Hermione Granger liked it. There, among the priceless receptacles of wizarding knowledge, she could focus, her wild brown hair billowing about her like some chaotic mantle and her nose pressed against the pages of a thick tome. That night was no exception, and as student after student filtered out under the watchful eye of Madam Pince, Hermione continued with her work, nestled in a far corner of the library, where she was seldom bothered.

Her head was bent over a long parchment filled with small, cramped handwriting as she wrote furiously with a goose feather quill. Every so often she would lay down the quill and pick up a large, leather bound book, referencing it briefly and then returning to her notes with gusto. It was in this attitude that the librarian found her. Sighing and shaking her head, she approached the girl.

"Are you quite finished?" asked Madam Pince, exasperated.

Hermione looked up, startled, and squinting. "What? Oh! Madam Pince, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there."

The older woman let out an irritated huff. "How much longer do you need, girl?" she asked.

Hermione looked back at her notes and tried to decide which number would be low enough to get the woman to leave her be.

"Fifteen minutes?"

Madam Pince made an impatient noise and glanced around the library. "Lock up after yourself, Miss Granger," she ordered, turning to leave before pausing to add, "and if I find a single book out of place in the morning I'll ban you for a month, sixth year or not." Hermione nodded obediently and watched as the lights dimmed and sputtered out around her. Re-igniting the candle beside her, she turned back to her work. Normally, she would have let the old librarian shoo her out before curfew, but she felt she was on the brink of something significant here. She'd been spending a great deal of time on this project and it was quite important to her. If only she could finish piecing together the correct phrasing, she'd have it. Unfortunately, the book over which she'd been bowed for the last several hours was written not in English, but in runes. She'd been translating for the last month and still hadn't gotten to any really pertinent information… until an hour ago. Her heart had nearly stopped when she'd taken a moment to read her translations.

 _After three clockwise sweeps of the wand, bow thy head and visualize the moment in time—_

She had given a startled squeak to realize that she'd gotten past theory and explanations and to the actual spell she'd been looking for. A couple of voices had shushed her from a few stacks over and she'd bent her head back to work. And now here she was, minutes away from having it, from finding a way to get answers Harry had been looking for his whole life.

She worked as the candle burned beside her, keeping an eye on the clock as it ticked steadily past curfew, and trying to remember exactly when Filch did his rounds in the library so that she could make herself scarce before then. Finally, an hour after Madam Pince had left her, Hermione gave a small whoop of delight.

"That's _it_ ," she crowed, dropping her quill and grabbing her wand off of the table beside her. "I've got you, you crafty little bugger!" She was delighted, and she stooped down to read the words she'd written once more. The instructions were in English now, the spell in Latin. Hermione was caught up in her excitement, and without giving thought to whether it was wise to try the spell at exactly that moment, she began to wave her wand clockwise as instructed. She uttered the spell as clearly as possible.

" _Fenestram in praeteritum_!" she said, voice loud and clear. Out of her wand burst a brilliant blue light. It shot forward several feet and then hung in mid air, beginning to spin. Hermione watched in wonder as the light seemed to stretch before her eyes, from a ball to an ever widening circle, until finally, it hung in mid air, several feet in diameter. It stopped moving suddenly and immediately lost its brilliant blue glow, fading and morphing until Hermione could make out shapes growing slowly clearer behind what looked like a sheet of glass.

"My God," she finally whispered as the images defined themselves. Sitting at a kitchen table, surrounded by balloons and several children, sat a small, bushy haired girl. Her eyes were shut tight as she faced a large round cake adorned with seven burning candles. Smiling, she opened her eyes and blew ferociously, extinguishing all of the candles to applause. A petite woman with extremely curly brown hair came into view, clapping and kissing the little girl on the cheek.

"Happy Birthday, Hermione, Darling!" She cried, though her voice was muffled from behind the glass. There were murmured birthday wishes from the others in the room, and a tall man with dark blonde hair bent down to kiss the girl on the other cheek. He plucked a candle off of the cake and handed it to her frosting side up with a wink. The little girl positively beamed, closing her eyes to savor the sweet decadence as a little boy behind her reached around and grabbed the little wax candle from her hand before she could get to it, plopping it in his own grubby mouth and laughing. Little Hermione was not pleased. She scowled over her shoulder at the boy, her eyes narrowing until, quite suddenly, the candle ignited once more. Fire shot up to singe the boy's eyebrows before settling back down to a merry little flame.

In the library Hermione laughed, delighted. "Finite," she said, and at once the window with its cozy scene disappeared. She sprang back to the table, writing out her thoughts in a whirl and trying to decide what came next. The charm worked! She knew that now at the very least, and with some careful experimentation she was sure she could get it to conjure up not just any memory, but any moment along the caster's timeline, whether they could consciously remember it or not. This was what she had been searching for! With this spell properly executed, Harry could perhaps look into his own timeline, at that first fateful meeting with Voldemort, to see what the hell had actually happened that had given him the power to talk to snakes and look into a megalomaniac's mind. What a gift it would be to know the secret, and perhaps to begin to understand and even reverse it.

She wrote for several minutes more before she decided on her next course of action. Standing and stepping away from the table once more, she raised her arm and closed her eyes, waving her wand clockwise three times and trying to focus on an idea, imagining what it might have been like the first time her parents saw her, held her. Her mother's tears of joy, her father's grin. Had they looked proud? Overwhelmed? Happy?

" _Fenestram in praeteritum_!" She said. The blue light shot out again, spinning quickly into the wide circle of glass from before. Behind it, the scene was dark. Hermione frowned; that was not what she had been expecting. Where was the fluorescent glare of the hospital lights? Where were her parents? She heard laughter from behind the glass, saw shadows moving. Was that moonlight? A woman screamed somewhere in the distance and more laughter burst out of the dark figures closest to the window.

"You think the chit would be a little more pleased at her calling," said a gruff male voice. "Bitch doesn't even know what an honor she's being given, does she?"

Hermione's eyes began to adjust to the darkness of the scene before her. She could see the two figures closest to the window where hooded, with their backs to her. The one on the left shrugged.

"She'll see though, won't she?" he responded. "Or she won't and she'll be dead in nine months." The other man guffawed and fell silent again.

Hermione strained to see past the two men. She could make out what looked like gnarled trees and a circle of hooded men in a moonlit copse, all surrounding a wide stone slab with an intricate looking chalice sitting atop it. And there in the distance, a white clad figure struggling between two men in black. Hermione could tell now that this was the woman whose screams she had heard at the beginning, because the closer her escorts drew her to the circle, the louder she began to cry out.

"I won't!" she yelled, her voice high and terrified, "Argus please! Father!"

"Quiet, girl!" hissed one of the men beside her, "The Dark Lord does you honor tonight. Now shut your mouth and do as you're told!" After several more agonized screams and rough handling from the men holding her arms, the girl was thrust into the circle. The men surrounding her closed ranks immediately, their bodies pressing together to form a solid wall of cloaked and hooded wizards around her. Terrified, she darted from man to man, seeming to recognize a majority of them and begging them to let her out. All she got for her troubles was laughter, until one of the men who had brought her shoved her away and sent her careening to her bare knees on the ground. She looked defeated there in the midst of the circle, cowering beside the stone slab in nothing but a sheer white nightgown, her riotous blonde hair loose and long around her. Her face darted from man to man, her cheeks tear stained, her nose red, until finally she looked in Hermione's direction.

The woman's cry mimicked Hermione's own as she reeled back, her hand raised to her mouth.

"Oh my God," Hermione cried, forcing herself to step forward as a shadowy figure seemed to pass through the window from her side, approaching the girl where she knelt quivering on the hard earth.

"Hello Annora," said the figure. His voice was high and clear, and though he was robed in white, with his back to Hermione, she had a very cold suspicion that she knew exactly who he was. "What a pleasure to have you here this evening," the man continued, "I'm honored…" his voice lingered on the word, causing the men around him to chuckle, "by your presence."

The woman stared up at the man before her looking horrified. "P-please, my Lord," she sobbed, not bothering to wipe away the tears from her face as she spoke. "I don't want— I am not ready to—"

"Shut. Your. Mouth. Girl!" One of the men who had brought her to the circle burst forward, his hood falling back and revealing a livid expression and a head of greying hair. He raised a booted foot and let it fly, catching the girl in her stomach and causing her to double over, wheezing. Hermione winced and cried out. "You dare dishonor our family before the Dark Lord?"

"Avery," hissed the man in white, "Contain yourself."

He began to walk then, circling the girl on the ground and studying her from every angle. As he reached the other side, Hermione couldn't stifle her horrified cry at the sight of his red eyes and sunken features. Finally, as he completed the round, Lord Voldemort spoke again. "She is everything you promised, Avery." And with a flick of his wand the girl's sobs were silenced and she was floating through the air and onto the table to sit beside the chalice, tears still streaming down her face.

"Imperio," Said Voldemort softly, and the girls face melted into a peaceful expression, eyes blank and mouth slack. "Drink, Annora." She lifted the cup to her mouth and drank deeply before setting it back down on the stone slab beside her. Lord Voldemort smiled indulgently and grabbed the goblet himself, taking a sip and handing it to the Death Eater nearest him.

"Incarcerous," Voldemort whispered, and thick ropes sprang from the tip of his wand, wrapping themselves around the blonde's wrists and ankles, spreading them obscenely across the stone alter and winding their way through thick metal rings at the base. "Now," he said, voice low, "Let's see that fire again. Finite!" And the serene expression she had worn was replaced with the panic, fear, and the horror from before. She began to struggle, yanking violently at her bindings. Voldemort laughed and his Death Eaters laughed with him.

"See here," he said, addressing the men around him. "Such fight, such… spirit." He leaned down over her, caressing her cheek with one pale, long fingered hand, as she cringed away. "A fitting disposition for the mother of my child, wouldn't you say, my dear?" Her eyes widened and she shook her head, her mouth moving as if to beg but no sound forthcoming.

With a smirk, Voldemort grabbed the girl's chin, forcing her lips to his as his other hand yanked up her night-gown and he straddled her on the alter. She struggled, but being bound, could do nothing.

Hermione couldn't force herself to look away as the scene unfolded before her. The woman sobbing on the slab as the Dark Lord moved above her, violating her, putting on a show for the men around him. It wasn't until he unsilenced her and she began to scream that Hermione realized she was crying herself, tears streaming down her face, heaving sobs bursting out of her rhythmically.

Suddenly, Hermione felt a pair of arms around her and screamed aloud.

"NO!" She shouted, her own screams matching those of the woman behind the window.

"Finite!" bellowed a voice from directly behind her. The window shattered and disappeared and Hermione panicked, screaming aloud once more.

"MUM!" She cried, struggling to get to the place from where the image had disappeared, fighting the arms around her tooth and nail until the man attached to them swore and released her.

"Miss Granger," the voice bellowed as she rushed forward, looking around like a frightened bird in confusion. "MISS GRANGER!"

Hermione's eyes snapped towards the source of the voice and she realized somewhere in the back of her mind that it was Professor Snape standing there, not a hooded Death Eater come to throw her into a circle as they had her mother. Her mother! Oh God, she couldn't have just seen what she thought she had. That wasn't her mother. It couldn't have been. Her mother was a Muggle, safe in dental school, being wooed by her father at that age. And she was a brunette, not a blonde… though those curls were hers, were Hermione's! And her face… Hermione knew that face. She'd stroked that face as it sang nursery rhymes, stared at it enraptured as it read her fairy tales. She knew every curve, every line, could see it when she closed her eyes.

"Miss Granger," Snape repeated, this time more softly, taking a step toward her, his wand held in his hand by his side and his other hand outstretched in her direction.

"Professor," she said, and then collapsed, her wand clattering to the floor as she felt a strong arm encircle her waist just as everything went black.


	2. Blood Never Lies

**Chapter Two: Blood Never Lies**

 **May 19, 1997**

When Hermione woke up, her head was pounding and her eyes were bleary. She remembered being in the library, working past curfew… she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and it came away moist. Were those tears? Finally managing to focus on her surroundings, she realized she wasn't in the library any more. She was sitting in a spindly arm chair across from an intimidating black desk, and surrounded by gloom and eerie glass jars filled with floating dead animals and bits of plants. A flash of green caught her attention to her left and she watched the emerald flames leap high before receding to a small and ordinary orange.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione said, catching sight of the tall man by the fireplace and recognizing him at once. "What am I doing in your office?"

He turned to face her at the sound of her voice, his expression morphing from what could have passed for a look of concern, to one of suspicion.

"Miss Granger," he acknowledged, sweeping past her to sit stiffly behind the large desk, his hands steepled before him. "Would you care to explain exactly what you were doing in the Library past curfew this evening?"

Hermione thought hard, her brain still muddled and a bit confused.

"Uh..."

"Such eloquence," Snape hissed. "One would think that with your history of being unable to keep your mouth shut, an answer would be a little more forthcoming."

Hermione stiffened, her chin jutting forward at the insult and her arms crossing in front of her protectively.

"I was studying," she said defensively.

"Indeed," said Snape skeptically. "And pray tell, which class has assigned you to conjure disturbing pornographic scenes in the middle of your school library?" His voice was practically a whisper and Hermione felt her blood run cold at the memories his words evoked. The circle of Death Eaters. Voldemort straddling the woman as she screamed… her mother's face.

"Answer me!" demanded Snape.

Hermione cleared her throat. "It— It wasn't for a class. It was a personal project."

"A dark project indeed for the school's gleaming Gryffindor Princess." Snape practically spat the last word, leaning forward to peer more closely at Hermione where she sat across from him, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"I didn't mean to—" she began, "I mean, I meant to do the spell, but not to see… that."

"Of course not," said Snape mockingly, "Never has a student _meant_ to be caught breaking school rules. I'm sure you thought your titillating little experience would remain completely private."

"I'd never!" Hermione burst out. "You think I wanted to see that?! You think I was—was _titillated_ by that awful assault?" She stood up, ignoring the wooziness that accompanied the sudden change in position, and continued to shout at the man sitting across from her. "You're sick!" She continued. "To think I could ever want to— to see something like that." When she finished she was practically hyperventilating. Her hands had come to rest on the edge of the desk behind which Snape sat, and she was leaning over it, shouting into the professor's face. He eyed her speculatively before clasping his hands and leaning back in his chair.

"Well then," he said, continuing to watch her as she breathed, staring at him with accusing eyes. "Do sit down, Miss Granger," he finally ordered, "Before you pass out again like some simpering first year."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, but unclenched her fists from the desk all the same. She stumbled back into her chair, sighing quietly when she realized just how dizzy she had felt standing there.

"Now then," said Snape, his voice softer now, less accusatory. "If you didn't mean to see what you saw, what exactly did you mean to do?" Hermione studied his face before answering. He looked interested, perhaps a bit concerned. And he was a member of the Order, why shouldn't she tell him? She made her decision without much more thought, and the words began to tumble out of her.

"I was trying to learn _Fenestram in Praeteritum_ ," she said, voice low and hoarse. "I read about it almost a year ago, though I didn't know the spell then, and I finally found the book I needed in February. I've been working to translate it ever since then. Tonight I finally got to the incantation."

" _Fenestram in Praeteritum_ ," echoed Snape. "Window to the Past." Hermione nodded.

"Yes. It allows the caster to quite literally open a window on to their own personal time line." She gulped, looking down at her hands. "I thought we could use it for Harry. If he could see what happened between he and Voldemort—"

"Do not speak the name," Snape hissed. Hermione flinched, nodding and then continuing.

"Well, I thought it might help us to understand their connection. Maybe gain an advantage… So I tried it. The first time it worked perfectly." Hermione closed her eyes. Remembering the birthday scene as it had appeared through the window. "I saw my seventh birthday." Her eyes opened. "But you see, that was a memory of mine, and Harry has no memory of the night his parents were killed. I needed to make sure the spell could target events in a timeline that the caster had no recollection of themselves. I was aiming for the first time my parents were together with me. The first time they held me… And then I saw—" she couldn't finish the thought, didn't want to see again in her mind the violation she had witnessed through the spell.

"That isn't possible," the Professor snapped. Hermione looked up at him, meeting his once more accusatory gaze.

"What I've told you is the _truth_ ," She assured him, "Why would I make _up_ something like that? Why would I actually want to watch something so… so evil!?"

At this, Snape stood up, coming around his desk, his robes billowing as they did when he moved quickly. Before Hermione could react he had approached her and put his hands on the arms of her chair, leaning down so that his face was scant inches from hers and his black eyes bored into her own dark brown.

"Miss Granger," he said quietly, "It is impossible that your spell worked the way you imagined, because what you witnessed has _nothing_ to do with you."

"I think Professor, that my mother has quite a lot to do with me," she responded icily, refusing to break her gaze. She watched with a sense of satisfaction as he studied her for some sign of falsehood. Finding none, he stood up, staggering back as if she had shoved him, until he came to rest against the surface of his desk.

Behind her, Hermione heard the door to Professor Snape's office open. She turned around to see who was there and was startled to see Professor Dumbledore. He wore what looked like a magenta night-gown with silver shooting stars darting across the fabric field, and a matching cap. His long beard was braided beneath his chin and tossed haphazardly over one shoulder. Hermione might have laughed if the sight of the Headmaster didn't make things seem somehow more terrifying.

"Miss Granger," he nodded in her direction, "Severus."

"Headmaster," Snape acknowledged, clearing his throat and regaining his composure.

Dumbledore entered the room and strolled easily to the seat beside Hermione, sitting and angling himself to face her, his blue eyes serious behind familiar half moon glasses.

"Miss Granger," he began, "I'm afraid I must ask you to tell me what exactly you were doing in the library this evening."

Hermione's eyes widened at his tone. He did not sound angry, but concerned and determined. Panicking, Hermione looked up at Professor Snape.

"I'm afraid I already got the story from her, Albus." The black haired man said smoothly. Hermione listened thankfully as he relayed her story to the Headmaster, ending with her comment about her mother. As he spoke, Hermione watched Dumbledore's face for signs of anger. If the Headmaster had been summoned from his bed at this hour, she was sure she was in a lot of trouble. Oh God, she'd die if they expelled her.

"I see," was all Dumbledore said as Snape finished speaking. The old man settled back in his chair, sighing heavily and folding his hands above his stomach as he peered at Hermione. He studied her for a while before finally giving her a small smile and motioning for Snape to sit once more, which he did stiffly.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said at last, leaning forward as he spoke to her, his expression softer now. "I'm sure you are very confused at this point. I promise you, we will explain as much as we can before you leave here. First though, I think it might be a good idea to pause for a moment and have a good strong cup of tea."

Several minutes later, the three of them sat in silence. With a snap of Professor Dumbledore's fingers, a wizened looking house elf had appeared with a tea tray heavily laden with three steaming cups and a large plate of biscuits. He had set them on Snape's desk, bowing deeply before disappearing with a crack. Now, Hermione held a warm cup of tea in her hands, glancing between Snape, who sat scowling at his cup, and Dumbledore, who was sipping, and apparently, savoring his. Finally, Hermione took a drink herself, and received a warm, approving smile from the Headmaster. She realized, as the hot tea travelled from her mouth to her stomach, that it was exactly what she had needed. She could feel her nerves calming and her emotions regulating with every sip she took.

After several minutes more, Hermione had drained her cup and was feeling pleasantly warm. Professor Snape was still scowling, having left his own cup untouched, and Professor Dumbledore had, it turned out, been waiting patiently for Hermione to finish before speaking.

"Well, Miss Granger," he said genially, "I believe a story is in order." He turned to Snape. "Severus?" The potions professor nodded and began to speak, his voice unimpassioned and mechanical sounding.

"When I was a newly initiated Death Eater," he began. Hermione's eyes widened at his matter of fact declaration. "I was summoned to a revel on the Winter Solstice in 1978. When I arrived, I realized at once it was not the normal sort of gathering. The Dark Lord was dressed all in white. There was a stone alter and a chalice at the center of a circle of my fellow Death Eaters." Hermione's blood seemed to freeze in her veins.

"You were—"

"Miss Granger," said Professor Dumbledore, reaching across the void between their chairs and placing a steadying hand on her arm, urging her to be quiet and listen. Hermione bit her tongue and tried to push back the sudden wave of revulsion that seemed to engulf her. Snape continued.

"We stood there for several minutes before we heard her for the first time. She was screaming, dressed in nothing more than a white chemise. She was being escorted on either side by a man. I recognized her and the men with her as soon as they reached the circle. Averys Senior and Junior. The girl between them I recognized from school. Her name was Annora Avery, a Ravenclaw and a gifted witch, also the only daughter of a very ancient Wizarding family. It was rumored, you see, that the Averys were descended from Rowena Ravenclaw." Snape paused and gulped before continuing. "I watched the scene unfold, just as you did, though I understood a bit more. The chalice was ceremonial of course, and held a rare potion I had brewed a week before at the Dark Lord's request. When she drank it, I understood. The Dark Lord had spoken often of eternal life, of a dynasty to support him, full of power unparalleled. Annora Avery, it seemed, had been chosen to mother his dynasty, to beget his heir. The potion I had brewed would ensure it." He stopped again, rising from his seat and approaching the fire place to stare into it's depths, his face hidden from Hermione's gaze.

"Of course the ceremony was… effective. The girl was sent home to her family for the period of her confinement. The Dark Lord was pleased and began to focus on other pursuits. And then, four months into the girl's pregnancy, she disappeared without a trace. We tried everything to find her. Dark magic and tracking spells alike. Nothing worked. There wasn't a whisper of her anywhere. Her disappearance is the reason there is no longer an Avery Senior. The Dark Lord was… displeased." Snape turned back to face them then, his hands behind his back. "Shortly thereafter, the Potters were killed and the Dark Lord disappeared. Annora and the child became little more than a legend as the Death Eaters were rounded up or hid in the shadows. The search ceased."

He fell silent then, the story seemingly finished. Hermione was having trouble making sense of the tale. What was the point? It hadn't answered her questions. Whoever this Annora Avery had been, it had been her own mother, Jean Oswald Granger, in the window that night. What had the two to do with one another? Why would the spell have shown her something so horrible and substituted the real victim for an imagined one?

"Professor," she finally said, voice soft, "I don't understand. What does this have to do with me? Why would the spell have behaved in this way and shown me… _that_?"

Professor Dumbledore smiled at her kindly. "Would you do me the honor, Miss Granger, of telling me about your family?" The request took her by surprise, but she complied.

"Umm… They're dentists. They met in school and had me, then started a practice. They're Muggles."

"And your extended family?"

"I haven't got any," Hermione responded automatically. She flushed and continued. "My parents were only children and were both orphaned before they started dental school. It's part of the reason they got along so well."

"I see," Said Dumbledore softly.

"I know what you're thinking," Hermione continued, a wild note in her voice, "But it's not true. My parents are _Muggles_. My mother grew up in London! My father is from Edinburgh! My mother isn't this Annora person. She doesn't even know anything about our world! She couldn't change money when she visited Diagon Alley!"

"Calm yourself, girl," ordered Snape from his place by the fire. Dumbledore sent him a sharp look and then peered back at Hermione kindly.

"Miss Granger," He said quietly, "Have you ever performed a piece of magic which has malfunctioned in any way?" She shook her head, keeping her eyes riveted on the Headmaster. "Why then, should this be any different?"

"Professor, it just can't be what you're suggesting," She said, her voice little more than a whisper.

"Your birthday is in September, correct, my dear?"

Hermione nodded. "The nineteenth. 1979."

"And the Winter Solstice, Severus?"

Snape spoke clearly from across the room. "It was a Sunday, Headmaster. December the 21st, 1978."

"Almost nine months to the day between the two, I think."

Hermione shook her head again, her eyes watering. "Professor, my mother is a _Muggle_." She said again.

"Have you a photo album in your rooms, Miss Granger?" He asked. She nodded mutely. "May I?" She nodded again and Dumbledore summoned it. A minute later it sped through the room and into his hands. He laid it open on the desk and Snape strode forward, peering down as Dumbledore thumbed through it before pausing on a picture of a toddler Hermione in her mother's arms. Jean Granger was smiling at the camera. The photo was still, as were the rest, but she didn't need them to move to know how happy her mother had been, to see her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners and the laugh lines around her mouth.

"It's her, Headmaster," Snape said softly, a note of wonder in his voice.

"No it isn't!" Hermione shouted, springing to her feet and rushing forward to rip the album away from them and clutch it close to her chest. "You're wrong, you're bloody wrong!" And she burst into tears, the photos held tight in her arms and her own wild mop of hair floating around her as her shoulders heaved and she babbled incoherently, trying to make them listen, to understand that what they were implying was impossible.

It took another couple of minutes and a calming draught from Snape's potion stores to help her settle back into her chair, dry eyed and wary, but once again reasonably approachable. Snape had taken up his place by the fire again, his back turned to Hermione and Dumbledore as the latter spoke reassuringly to the distraught young woman beside him.

"I understand your reticence to believe," he was saying, "and I would be lying if I were to say there was not a shadow of doubt in my mind a well… So I think it's best to be sure. It is not a pleasant spell I'm suggesting… in fact, I think it falls under Professor Snape's subject, as I'm sure he'd term it dark… but given the circumstances, I think we must be sure."

Hermione looked up at the wizened old man beside her and nodded.

"Severus," said Dumbledore, standing as Snape swept from the fire to Hermione's side once more. She watched him as he moved, his expression dark, his eyes hooded as his hand reached for her wrist and wrapped itself vice like around it. He pulled her arm away from her body, and in his other hand appeared a gleaming dagger, clean and silver. Before Hermione could protest, she felt the blade pierce the skin of her forearm, dragging down like a line of fire and leaving a deep, flowing cut behind in its wake as she cried out. She tried to yank her arm back, but Snape's grip was unyielding, and soon she noticed a crystal vial beneath her arm, collecting the blood that spilled from her veins into a dark, quivering pool.

" _Episky_ ," She heard him say, and she watched in fascination as the wound on her arm knitted itself together.

"For the scarring," said Professor Dumbledore mildly, handing her a jar of what looked like dittany as Snape crossed back to his desk. Hermione watched him work. The former Potions professor moved quickly, his robes billowing as he swept from desk to cabinet to trunk to desk again until it seemed he had all the tools he needed. He poured her blood into a glass bowl over which he then held a struggling rat. Hermione winced and shut her eyes as it squealed and Snape raised a knife to its throat. When she opened her eyes again, the blood in the bowl seemed to have doubled and he began to stir it, adding three drops of clear liquid from another vial before producing a quill and dipping it in the blood, then setting it down once more beside a length of unrolled parchment.

"Miss Granger," he said finally, stepping away from the quill and motioning for her to approach. She rose as if in a dream and walked to his side. "The spell is _parentibus revelare_ ," he said, voice low. "This is the wand movement." His wand wove an intricate knot which she then imitated instinctively. Snape nodded, satisfied, and took a step back.

 _Parentibus revelare_ he had said. She recognized the latin. Reveal parentage.

She spoke the spell as her wand moved over the quill. She kept her eyes closed as she heard the tell-tale scratching, a sound that had once comforted her as it kept her company on long nights of studying. When it stopped, she felt the two men behind her step forward, one on either side.

"Miss Granger, will you open your eyes?" asked Dumbledore, voice soft, non-threatening.

She shook her head. She couldn't, she was too frightened. The quill couldn't possibly have written anything other than Jean Oswald Granger and Henry Frank Granger… but the alternative terrified her.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, heavy but reassuring.

"You are nothing like him," she heard Professor Snape say, his voice low and certain. "You never could be."

Her eyes fluttered open at his words and she met his gaze. Black eyes and pale skin, large nose and thick dark hair down to his shoulders. There was nothing comforting about his features, but she found herself trusting his steady gaze and the set of his mouth.

She looked down at the paper and took a deep breath.

"All right," she said softly, barely breathing. "Okay."

"Miss Granger, would you like to sit?" asked Dumbledore kindly. She shook her head.

"No. No," she repeated. "I think I'd like to go to my room now." She couldn't see the look of concern Dumbledore gave her, though she wouldn't have cared if she had. All she wanted now was to rest.

"I'll have Professor Snape escort you," Dumbledore murmured, patting her on the back. Hermione nodded and tore her eyes from the parchment, closing them in an effort to banish the image now seared there on her retinas. It was no use. Until the day she died she would see it, the bloody script in her own handwriting, spelling out the words that would change her life forever.

 _Annora Elise Avery_ , the quill had written, _and Tom Marvolo Riddle._


	3. Priorities

_**You know, I am terrible at pacing myself when it comes to posting chapters I've already written. I have them, and so I want to**_ ___**them. Thanks to those who have reviewed the last two chapters. I love hearing what people think, so please, PLEASE let me know how you liked it, even if your review is as simple as "It was okay," or "You really need to utilize spell check." And Happy New Year!**_

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 **Chapter Three: Priorities**

 **May 20, 1997**

Hermione barely noticed a thing as they made their way out of Snape's office. If the heels of the professor's boots hadn't echoed so loudly in her head, she wasn't sure she wouldn't have wandered the wrong direction. As it was though, she kept the sound at the forefront of her thoughts, letting it guide her through the dreary dungeons and up a narrow stone staircase which dumped them out into the Entrance Hall. There, Professor Snape's pace seemed to slow as he fell back slightly, placing himself beside Hermione as they walked rather than ahead of her. Looking up from her own feet, she glanced sideways at him, expecting the sneering expression she was so accustomed to seeing on his face. Far from unpleasant though, his expression seemed to be instead one of concern. Hermione blinked slowly and checked again, just as the toe of her trainer caught the rough edge of a flagstone and she went lurching forward unceremoniously.

A viselike grip around her upper arm jarred her upright before she had a chance to fall and she heard Snape let out a noise of disapproval beside her.

"Really, Miss Granger," he hissed, "if you insist on being so supremely self-absorbed, at least have the good manners to look where you are going."

Hermione yanked her arm back and glowered up at Professor Snape. What a perfectly horrible man he was. To have just witnessed everything he had and to stand there insulting her as if she had no _right_ to be distracted.

"Don't speak to me," she heard herself order, voice low and words clipped. Snape's eyebrows shot up so far they could have disappeared into his hairline.

"Excuse me-" he began, but Hermione cut him off.

"I will _not_ ," she insisted. "After you stood there telling me all those horrible things, after standing by and allowing my mother to be… to be violated!"

"Miss Granger, calm yourself at once!"

"I will not!" She shouted, stamping her foot and clenching her hands into fists at her side.

Before she knew what was happening Snape had her by the arm again, and though she struggled, his grip was unrelenting. He dragged her from the entrance hall unceremoniously, righting her as she stumbled down the stone steps and ignoring her protests until he had her before a familiar portrait. If she had been thinking more clearly she would have realized where they were headed before he had thrust her onto a bench beside a long wooden table. So shocked was she at her surroundings that she had fallen completely silent once more, instead staring wide eyed at the myriad house elves who had seemed to freeze at their entrance and were staring warily at the enraged looking Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and his surprised pupil.

"Dorcas," Snape snapped, and at once a small house elf in a crisp pillowcase bearing the Hogwarts crest scurried forward.

"Professor Snape, sir?" the creature squeaked, her voice high and clearly feminine.

"Prepare something for us to eat at once," he demanded before taking a seat across the table from Hermione.

Immediately, the house elves who had seemed frozen around them sprang into action, whipping around the kitchen until barely a minute later, several elves, including the one called Dorcas, presented them with a massive tray overflowing with pastries and fruits, sandwiches and mugs of what looked like hot cocoa. They set it between Hermione and Snape at the table before receding at once into the background. It seemed, mused Hermione, that the Hogwarts House Elves were well acquainted with the former Potions Master's disposition. For some reason, the fact amused her and she chortled before she could stop herself. Professor Snape raised a brow in her direction.

"It seems you are determined to run through a veritable gamut of emotions tonight, Miss Granger," he said sourly. Hermione's laughter only increased at his tone, until she found herself doubling over, each new glance at her Professor's horrified expression sending her into another bout of mirth. It took almost several full minutes for her to finally calm herself, and when she had she sat circumspectly at the table, picking at an apple tart and sipping at some cocoa.

"Are you quite recovered?" His voice across from her was tentative. Hermione looked up and nodded.

"Umm, yes. I think so," she said, a bit mortified but too emotionally drained to really care what he thought of her at this point, or how many detentions she was going to have to endure for shouting at him as she had in the Entrance Hall.

Snape nodded, seemingly satisfied, and picked up what looked like a chicken sandwich from the platter between them. Hermione watched him eat in fascination. In her nearly six years at Hogwarts, she wasn't sure she'd ever seen the man eat with his hands. It wasn't as if she had spent an inordinate amount of time watching him eat, but when every evening your meals were served in the same room, you were bound to notice the people around you, especially those at the Head Table who kept a constant, watchful eye over the students surrounding them. And so she knew that Professor Severus Snape had never lowered himself to eat so much as a drumstick with his fingers in front of his students. She thought she even remembered him cutting grapes and spearing their halves with his ever present fork once before. Yet here he sat across from her, sitting stiffly with his back ramrod straight as he used his hands to eat. _God_ , Hermione thought, _I must really be in a state if he's acting like a human being around me_.

When he had finished, he wiped his hands on a cloth napkin presented effortlessly by the nearest house elf, and then folded his hands above his lap, eyeing her speculatively.

"Do you think you might be ready to converse without bursting into either laughter or tears?" he asked.

Looking down at her own hands, wrapped around her half drunk mug of cocoa, she nodded. The food, it transpired, had helped.

"Good," he said, leaning forward before continuing. "Miss Granger, what you have learned tonight will have no doubt have had an effect on you. I will not hold you to the normal standard of behaviour I would normally expect from an over-wrought student, because I believe your situation to be unique, and even deserving of the sort of juvenile behaviour you have displayed this evening." Affronted, Hermione moved to open her mouth, but Snape held up a hand to stay her. "Please, allow me to finish." Hermione bit her tongue and nodded. Snape paused, watching her for any sign of an impending outburst before continuing, satisfied that she would let him speak without interruption at last.

"I do not claim any modicum of innocence for my past," he said softly. "There were many times when I was young and completely in the Dark Lord's service that I witnessed things which were and remain… distasteful to me. I did nothing to help your mother, Miss Granger, just as I did nothing to save the countless lives lost before Lily and James Potter were killed. I will not argue that I had been misled in my youth, because I was not. I knew the type of man with whom I had allied myself. I made a choice, and I have since lived with its consequences." Here he paused, seeming to steady himself before looking Hermione in the eye.

"I am not a good man," he said simply. "Still, I recognized my errors, and I know now where my priorities lie." He leaned forward then, his gaze steady and black as it bored into hers. "Where are your priorities, Miss Granger?"

The question took her by surprise but she could see Snape was quite serious in his question. She blinked and leaned backwards in his chair, turning the query over in her mind. Where were her priorities? She thought she had always been quite clear on that front. School work first, always school work. Assignment after assignment, revision after revision. She'd never faltered, never… unless it concerned her friends. Helping them study, researching dangers, protective enchantments and fighting beside them against Trolls and Werewolves and Death Eaters… Where were her priorities?

"With Harry," she answered, unwavering.

Snape leaned back in his chair once more, eyeing her speculatively before rising without warning and motioning for her to follow him towards the exit. As she passed through the door ahead of him, he caught her arm once more. She stopped and looked up at him, his face close enough to hers that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

"I hope you can remember that, Miss Granger," he murmured, "No matter what."

Hermione's heart raced at the look of intensity in his eyes, wondering for a moment why she'd never noticed how captivating that gaze could be.

"I always have," she said simply. And he released her, escorting her to Gryffindor Tower without another word.

Hermione slept deeply and dreamlessly that night, a fact that she was grateful for when she woke in the morning and the memories of the night before came crashing back to her. Sitting up in bed, Hermione drew back the curtains around her four poster bed, relieved to see that neither Lavender nor Parvati had woken yet. She made her way quietly from between the sheets to pull on her uniform, grabbing her wand from her bedside table and slinging her book bag over her shoulder. She needed to do something mundane, something familiar. Something that would keep her from thinking of a blood stained parchment with two unfamiliar names where her parents should have been.

The Gryffindor common room was deserted as she made her way into it, and no wonder. Through its windows only the barest hint of light filtered. It was probably hardly five in the morning. Hermione let her feet guide her to her favorite sofa by the fire, dropping into it heavily and pulling out several books that she spread out around her. One was missing, the leather bound volume from the night before, and she winced as she realized the mess she must have left behind in the library. Madam Pince would be furious when she found it. Hermione briefly considered running down to the library and sneaking in before the librarian arrived to tidy things up, but she didn't think she could face it. Instead, she focused her attention on the Potions text in front of her, rereading the assigned chapter on the potion she'd be brewing later that day. Around her, the common room came alive as she worked. Yawning students descended the dormitory steps, wiping sleep from their eyes and heading to the Great Hall in search of breakfast. It wasn't until seven that Harry and Ron descended, neither noticing Hermione until she called out to them.

"Harry! Ron! Wait for me and I'll walk down with you." The boys stopped, Ron still looking more than half asleep and Harry peering around the room with some interest.

"Has Ginny come down yet?" he asked, trying to sound casual. The two had been dating for a little over a week now, and Hermione didn't think she'd seen Harry happier since before their fifth year.

"I think I saw her go down just a few minutes ago," she said, managing to stuff the last book in her bag and slinging it over her shoulder as she made her way towards the portrait hole.

"Oh, cool," said Harry. Hermione could tell he was trying to muffle his excitement for Ron's sake. Though the redhead had given his brotherly blessing on the relationship, the idea of flaunting the fact that Harry was snogging his little sister probably wasn't something even 'The Chosen One' would relish.

"Ready," said Hermione, pushing open the portrait and climbing through, the boys on her heels.

"Morning, Mione," mumbled Ron as he yawned into his hand. Hermione tried for a smile in answer but thought it might have come out looking more like a grimace. It was a good thing Ronald Weasley wasn't very observant, even at the best of times.

When they reached the Hall, Hermione observed the normal breakfast crowd. The Gryffindor table wasn't too crowded; students tended to come down in waves in the morning depending on their schedules. Harry spotted Ginny at the far end and made his way quickly towards her, followed closely by Hermione and Ron, who sat down heavily when he reached his spot and reached immediately for a tall glass of fresh squeezed orange juice. As Harry began to fawn over Ginny's attire and hair style, Hermione tried to focus on the activity around her. Though the hall was quieter in the mornings than at supper time, she could still hear the comforting drone of a hundred different conversations taking place around her. The swish and flick of wands as students got in a bit of practical study before class was as familiar to her as the scratching of a quill on parchment.

She winced. Perhaps quills and parchment weren't the thing to think about right now, not when all she could see as she envisioned them was a glass bowl filled with blood.

"Hermione?" Her eyes snapped up at Ron's voice. He was peering at her expectantly, as if he'd been trying to get her attention for some time.

"Yes?" She said, shaking her head.

"All right there?"

"Of course I am," she responded, "why wouldn't I be?"

Ron shrugged, taking another bite of toast as he did so. "Dunno, you just looked worried."

Schooling her features, Hermione smiled kindly and stabbed a piece of cantaloupe with her fork. "It's nothing," she assured him. "It's just I think there might be a surprise quiz today in Arithmancy, and I was wondering whether I'd revised enough." Ron laughed and swallowed.

"I think you've done enough revision to pass the N.E.W.T.S tomorrow if you had to," he said, smiling at her warmly. Hermione smiled back, a small wave of sadness rolling over her as she realized a compliment which would have pleased her immensely the day before, now served only to reassure her that she was acting normally. As much as she might fancy Ron, she couldn't think about that now, not when all she saw when she looked at him was the horrible possibility that he or Harry might find out her terrifying new secret. She thought she'd rather die than face them if either knew.

She spent the rest of breakfast listening politely to Parvati and Lavender talk beside her, feigning interest in the new menu at Madam Puddifoot's before it was finally time for her to head to class. Ancient Runes was interesting as always, though she was perhaps more easily distracted than normal. Several times, Professor Babbling paused beside her table to give her a worried look before moving on. Hermione left the class quickly, narrowly avoiding a conversation with the concerned professor and heading instead to Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was only as she actually entered the classroom that she remembered it was with Professor Snape, Snape who knew what she had been trying to forget all day and who the night before had eaten a sandwich in front of her with his fingers.

She had just taken her seat beside Ron when the classroom door blew open. Snape billowed into the room as usual, flicking his wand at the blackboard where a page number appeared.

"Your lesson for the day can be found on page 456. Read it through, _quietly_ , and when you are finished, store your text and await further instruction."

Hermione opened her book quickly, realizing that the lesson was one she had studied on her own and was quite proficient at. She thought of re-reading the text but decided to do so would be a waste of energy at this point, and so she gently closed her text and pushed it to the corner of her desk.

"Miss Granger," came a smooth, silken voice from just behind her. Her back stiffened and she sat up a little straighter. "I was not aware I had exempted you from this lesson." Snape swept around her desk as he spoke, coming to stand before her and glaring haughtily down his hooked nose as he examined her. "Or perhaps you feel you have little left to learn from this class, given your extensive powers of conceit and self-importance appear to have served you well thus far." Hermione glared back at him, offended at the insult and still smarting from his treatment the night before.

"Yes," she agreed before thinking, "You have taught those skills quite impressively."

Around her, the reactions were mixed between sharp gasps and poorly suppressed laughter. Hermione smiled sweetly up at the Professor, for once completely satisfied with her answer.

"Silence!" hissed Snape, scowling at the students around him and waiting for quiet to fall once more before turning back to Hermione, who was beginning to feel the slightest bit uncomfortable once more. He leaned down then, his hands on either side of her desk as he brought his face down to her level, his expression self assured and satisfied once more.

"Detention, Miss Granger," he said softly, "Friday evening at eight. And you will spend the rest of this lesson copying from the text. Begin on page four hundred and fifty six."

Hermione spent the rest of the period seething as she copied out the lesson and Ron and Harry gave her worried looks from the other side of the room where they were practicing shield charms. She hadn't meant to talk back like that, but it seemed her responses were less in her control than they had ever been before, as if knowing what she knew had sent her into some sort of destructive tail spin where she was distracted during lessons and disrespecting teachers. As she wrote, she tried to examine her feelings.

Fear, it seemed that was the primary emotion at this point. She was afraid that someone would find out, that she was somehow different now than she had been before. She was scared that if someone found out, her mother would be harmed. For that matter, she was afraid that her mother was some sort of liar who had built their entire family life on illegal magic. What if she'd forced her father into marriage with a love potion of something? Mostly though, she was terrified of what it would mean for her and for Harry if Voldemort found out who she really was. Would he have her kidnapped? Killed? Would Harry come after her? Avenge her? Would who she was ruin everything? And there, beneath the near crippling fear, was the anger. Why her? Why now? Why this? How could this have happened to her, _her_ of all people. She was Hermione bloody Granger, muggle-born witch extraordinaire. She was _proof_ that blood-purity was a lie, that Voldemort was wrong… and now she wasn't. She was so mad she could break something.

A crunching sound in front of her brought Hermione out of the dark reverie she had given in to. There, she found her favorite quill crushed in her fist.

"Damn," she hissed, pulling out her wand and repairing it just as Snape dismissed the class from across the room.

"A word before you leave, Miss Granger," Snape called as the students exited. She saw Harry and Ron linger by the door, glaring back at Snape and looking at Hermione with twin expressions of concern.

"Yes, Professor," she sighed, shaking her head at Harry and Ron and waving them off. They both shot one last glare in Snape's direction and disappeared through the door behind the rest of the class.

Book and repaired quill now stored in her bag, Hermione approached Snape's desk where he now sat, reclined in his chair, hands folded across his midsection.

"My assignment, Sir," she said, chin jutting forward as she dropped the thick scroll of parchment she'd been filling all period onto his desk.

Ignoring it, Snape studied Hermione almost casually. She could feel his eyes move across the planes of her face, her hair, down her torso to her feet and back up again. Her stomach clenched at the odd sensation of being perused so thoroughly.

"You know," Snape said at last, "You look remarkably like your mother. I am surprised I never suspected before."

Hermione shrugged, not quite sure how to respond.

Sighing, Snape stood behind his desk and let his hands drop to his side.

"Miss Granger," he said abruptly, "while I understand how distressed you must be, it is imperative that you regain control over yourself. This attitude will not do."

Hermione's eyes flashed.

"You know how I feel, Professor?" She said softly, "I was under the impression I was the only one here descended from evil incarnate."

Snape snorted in response.

"The Dark Lord was a man like any other, Miss Granger. That you exist is proof of that." Hermione blushed, folding her arms in front of her and Snape continued. "You are not evil, girl, any more than you were yesterday or the day before. Insufferable and self-important with a pitiable taste in friends, yes… but those things hardly make you wicked."

"I don't have a pitiable taste in—"

Snape held up his hand. "Let us agree to disagree. Now, I expect you to regain your composure by the time you finish your classes today. If you wish to lead the life you have led up to this point, you must control your emotions. No one can know what you have learned if you wish to remain anonymous, if you plan to continue helping your friends. If you must, put this new knowledge out of your mind. Pretend it was a nightmare or a revision induced hallucination. Do what you must to behave normally, because if you don't and you are discovered by your peers… your life will come undone. Do you understand?"

His eyes were boring into hers again, just as they had the night before. Hermione found herself lost in them, remembering the pool in her parents back yard where she'd spent countless evening swimming and floating peacefully in the calm blue water. His black eyes enveloped her in the same way, steadied and centered her until she felt calm and sure.

"I understand," she said at last, feeling as if in that moment she truly did. She could do what was necessary to safeguard what was important to her. Her parentage did nothing to change who she was, what she valued. No matter the secrets her mother had kept, she had loved her daughter, loved her husband. Hermione was not the product of two foreign names written in blood, but the living breathing daughter of the two loving muggles who had raised her.

"Good," answered Snape. "You are dismissed." And with a stiff nod, Hermione broke their gaze and fled.


	4. The Plan

**A/N: I hope you all had a great weekend. Mine was pretty OK, if you discount last nights mega tantrum from the llama toddler. After that I definitely need some me time for writing. Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to ask me any questions you have in the review section.**

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 **Chapter Four: The Plan**

 **May 23, 1997**

Hermione spent the rest of the week pretending things were normal. She avoided the library (though she was sure Madame Pince wouldn't have admitted her even if she'd begged) and spent her time revising in the common room between classes and late into the evenings. Harry was occupied with Ginny often enough that he didn't seem to notice her renewed dedication to schoolwork, but Ron, who was being more observant than Hermione had ever seen him, had asked her whether anything was bothering her. She had forced a smile and shaken her head.

"No, I'm sorry, Ron. I'm just worried about exams. You ought to be studying as well, you know." Ron, seemingly satisfied with her answer had shrugged and made some sort of quidditch excuse before leaving her alone once more.

Friday evening found Hermione still by the common room fire, this time studying her ancient runes text and practicing translations on a spare bit of parchment she'd found stuffed in its pages.

"Don't you have detention tonight?" Hermione looked up, eyes adjusting after staring at pages full of small print for the last several hours. Harry was sitting beside her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his face turned toward hers. His messy black hair looked windswept and his scar was only partially obscured by his bangs. He looked like he'd just gotten back from flying on his broomstick.

"What?" said Hermione.

"Detention. With Snape. That's tonight, isn't it?"

Hermione looked down at her wristwatch. It had been a gift from her mother before she'd left for Hogwarts. Only now did she realize that the antique and delicate silver timepiece had replaced an electronic one which wouldn't have functioned amidst all of the swirling magic in the castle. Of course her mother had known that.

"Yes," said Hermione, noting it was ten to eight and smiling back at Harry. "Thanks. I was a bit caught up here." Harry smiled back at her and nodded.

"Yeah, you've been really into the books this week. Ron's a little worried you're working too hard, I think."

Hermione rolled her eyes and finished packing her bag. "Ron wouldn't understand studying hard if he were trapped in the library with a pack of Ravenclaws for a week."

Harry chuckled and agreed, offering to have Ginny take her bag up to her room so Hermione didn't have to lug it to detention with her. Agreeing, she thanked him and made her way out of the common room, checking her watch as she went. She had only five minutes left to reach Snape's office and so she walked quickly, making it to his door just as the hour struck and knocking loudly so she couldn't be accused of tardiness.

"Enter," Hermione heard Snape's voice from behind the door. She let it swing forward before walking in stiffly. The first thing she noticed was Professor Snape facing the fireplace with his back to the door. He looked just as uncomfortable as she was, his arms crossed and his back completely straight. The next thing she realized was that he wasn't the only other person in the room.

"Miss Granger." The headmaster spoke from behind Snape's desk where he sat with his elbows on its wooden surface, hands steepled in front of him. "Good evening."

Hermione hesitated in the middle of the room, glancing from Dumbledore to the back of Snape's head and at Dumbledore once more.

"Please, sit," said the headmaster, motioning to the seat across from him. He had obviously had a hand in transfiguring it, because where she remembered there being a spindly and uncomfortable seat sat a cozy chintz arm chair. Hermione took the seat, feeling herself sink into it and sitting up as straight as she could despite the lack of real support and the fact that her knees were practically level with her navel.

"I appreciate you coming here this evening," began Dumbledore, "And while I'm sure you were looking forward to serving detention quite as much as Professor Snape was to having his Potions stores organized, I must regretfully inform you that I have commandeered this time and wish to use it not for service to the school, but for discussion." Here he paused as if to allow for dissension, and when none was forthcoming he continued. "I understand, Hermione, that after events earlier this week, you must have had quite a lot on your mind. I assure you that the same issue has weighed heavily on me as well, though I do not wish to compare your confusion and disappointment to my thoughts. I only wish to express to you that this newfound knowledge has been of great concern to me and I have considered it diligently, as, I am sure, have you."

Hermione stared blankly at the headmaster, not quite sure how to respond other than to nod once and squeeze the arms of the chair to keep from leaping from her seat and running out of the room. This was not a conversation she wanted to have. She'd spent the week studiously ignoring the topic and pretending, as Snape had suggested, that it was a non-issue. But having Professor Dumbledore here, insisting on discussing the one thing that had managed to send her into a panicked spiral of confusion and anger, was making avoidance impossible.

"I'm sure you have considered more than a little the impact this news might have on your life. To be one moment Hermione Granger and the next some unknown person descended from strangers-" Hermione looked up sharply and spoke without preamble.

"I'm still Hermione Granger, Professor." She said, her voice clear and forceful. "Whoever fathered me, I'm still myself."

From across the wide expanse of solid desk, Professor Dumbledore beamed at her.

"Of course you are," he agreed, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach, "and I am glad of it indeed." His eyes seemed to twinkle as he observed her, sitting as stiffly as her sagging seat allowed and clenching her fists at her sides. Hermione had the uncomfortable feeling that he was waiting for her to do or say something more, and she hadn't the slightest clue what that might be.

"Hermione," he spoke at last, "would I be correct in assuming that despite this shocking turn of events, you remain dedicated to your friends, and to their cause?" Hermione's brow furrowed at the question and she felt more than a little offended that both Snape and Dumbledore seemed to think finding out she was related to the most evil wizard in the world could mean she was somehow less inclined to see him defeated.

"Yes," she replied stiffly, gritting her teeth and scowling at Dumbledore where he sat. The old man merely smiled back at her, looking delighted.

"Perfect. To that end, Miss Granger, I think we have available to us two different courses of action." Behind her, Hermione heard Professor Snape scoff. She glanced in his direction and could see he was no longer facing the fire, but Dumbledore. His face looked quite as disgruntled as his posture suggested, and the frown lines above his eyes were deep vertical slashes.

"First," said Dumbledore, "We can continue as we have been. You would remain Hermione Granger, helping Harry to achieve the great task set to him, contributing your wealth of knowledge and talent to your friends openly and without reservation." To Hermione, this seemed the only option. What else could she do? To reveal her secret to her friends would be disaster. She couldn't imagine it to be a thing Harry could dismiss or Ron could ignore. To remain where and who she was, her only choice was to stay silent. Hadn't Snape said as much just days before?

"Your second option, Miss. Granger, is somewhat more complicated, though I believe it has benefits which might help our cause more than you might now imagine possible." Again, Snape made a noise of distaste. Hermione heard his robes billow as he whirled back to face the fire. Dumbledore glanced at him and then back at Hermione. "Professor Snape has understandable reservations about this plan. I must ask you though, to keep your mind open and to not interrupt as I explain it, so that both of your options might be fully understood, the benefits and drawbacks weighed against your priorities. Can you agree to that, Hermione?"

She stared back at the headmaster, her brown eyes meeting his blue which held not a trace of twinkle at the moment. He looked serious, concerned, and in complete earnest. She nodded once and waited for him to continue. He did not make her wait long.

"I am dying," said Dumbledore abruptly. The words went through Hermione like a lightning bolt, shocking her completely and leaving her speechless. The great Albus Dumbledore was _dying_? "I have another year at the very most, though I fear Death will call before this year ends. It is important that you know this, Hermione, because no matter your choice here tonight, I will still die soon. You do not hold my life in your hands, and you are not responsible for my end. Do you understand?" She didn't, not really, but Hermione nodded anyway.

"Good," said Professor Dumbledore, "The second thing you should know is that Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater, and has been ordered by Voldemort to kill me. Professor Snape and I believe this is not his desire, but given the fact that his parents are currently being forced to play host to their master, we believe he thinks he has no other choice. Indeed until now, he may not have. And third, at my order, Professor Snape has sworn an unbreakable vow to kill me should Draco fail."

Hermione gasped. An unbreakable vow! She had never imagined undertaking such an oath herself, she had studied them several years before and been horrified. The images drawn beside the explanation had illustrated the consequences of not fulfilling such an oath, and they had been grotesque. To break an unbreakable vow by choice or circumstance, was death.

"You see," continued Dumbledore, "my life is of little consequence if Severus cannot keep his position in Voldemort's ranks. Having him as a spy is crucial to our success. I had planned merely to take my leave a little earlier than nature would perhaps demand, to ensure Severus's position… but then, Hermione, another opportunity presented itself to us in the form of a startlingly talented young witch who also happens to be the lost child of our enemy."

"Me," said Hermione, her voice barely an echo in her ears.

"You," spat Snape from his place by the fireplace, whirling to face her. "You with your ridiculously Gryffindor sense of loyalty and your idiotic need to-"

"Severus!" Dumbledore spoke sharply and Snape stopped his advance, shooting one last glare in Hermione's direction before returning to his spot beside the fire abruptly.

"You cannot know how much Voldemort valued your existence, Hermione, or how enraged he was at the disappearance of your mother," said Dumbledore, his voice soft once more. "You were a crucial point in securing his total power, a solid link between him and the pureblood families he looked to rule. His servants searched high and low for any sign of Annora Avery and when they failed, he punished them severely. The man who returned you to him, Hermione, would be rewarded liberally, and woulgf I think, earn Voldemort's trust and a measure of whatever devotion he is capable."

It was at that point that Hermione understood Dumbledore's plan. She watched him as he surveyed her, waiting for some reaction, but she couldn't bring herself to move an inch much less speak. The horror she felt was too overwhelming.

"What I wish to propose, Miss. Granger, is not something to be taken lightly. It would change your life irrevocably and immediately. It would place you in danger more real than you have ever experienced before… but it would also allow us the edge I believe we need to defeat Voldemort once and for all."

From the other side of the room came Snape's voice, low but perfectly understandable.

"For Merlin's sake, Albus. Be blunt with the girl." He turned to face her once more, his features blank, his arms hanging loosely by his side. "The Headmaster wants to let me give you to The Dark Lord, Miss Granger. He hopes this will allow me to retain my position within his ranks when neither I nor Malfoy succeed in murdering him, which will in turn allow the Headmaster to live past the end of the school year and assist Potter in whatever insurmountable task he has set him. Only when he is finally at death's door and can no longer avoid his end will I then be called upon to fulfill my vow. He hopes, I am sure, that the Dark Lord will have been defeated by this point."

When Snape had finished speaking, Hermione looked from him to Dumbledore. The old man's face was apologetic but determined.

"I'm afraid though the delivery was somewhat more blunt than I may have prefered, Severus has not lied. I believe that I am on the very edge of finding the key to Voldemort's downfall, a key which only Harry can turn."

"You mean the Horcruxes," said Hermione bluntly. Beside her, she heard Snape's breath catch. Dumbledore's face froze before he nodded slowly.

"Yes, Miss Granger," he answered, his voice soft. "And I believe that with a little more time, I will be able to help Harry in his task, winning this war more quickly and with less casualties than would otherwise be possible."

"And all you need to accomplish that is for me to let Voldemort kill me." Hermione's voice sounded harsh and foreign to her own ears, though she felt justified in her tone of voice considering what her headmaster had just asked of her.

"No," answered Dumbledore vehemently. "No, if I thought he would do any such thing, I would never suggest the deception. You are too valuable to him, however twisted his soul might be. He will not have fatherly affection for you, but the blood that runs through your veins is the blood of Salazar Slytherin, and is more precious to him, I think, than the blood of one thousand pureblood servants. Severus assures me that Voldemort is… incapable of producing more children since his return. You are his only chance at the dynasty he once dreamed of. Your upbringing, even your antipathy for him will not be enough to endanger your life. Especially if you allow him to see any doubt about your muggle life, any chance you might be swayed to his side."

"There is no chance!" hissed Hermione, springing finally from her seat and slamming her fist on the desk between herself and the Headmaster. "None! I don't give a damn whose blood I've got in me, I could never, _ever_ sympathize with a murderer like him!" Her breath was coming out in ragged spurts now and her eyes were blurry though she wasn't sure why until the first tear drop hit her hand on the surface in front of her. When she looked back up, Dumbledore's gaze was meeting hers warmly.

"No, of course there isn't," he agreed softly, "If I thought there was, we would not be having this conversation. I am not asking you to be honest with Voldemort, Miss. Granger, I am asking you to practice subterfuge and misdirection, to assist Professor Snape in his work as spy and allow me the time to help Harry to defeat Tom Riddle once and for all."

From where she stood, Hermione could see no reservation in the Headmaster's face. He did not look as if he doubted her or expected her to turn dark. He didn't even look like he was expecting her to go along with his plan.

And then there was Snape, standing off to the side, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed. He looked haughty and proud, offended even at the implication that a school-girl could somehow help him in his dangerous task. There was no challenge in his eyes now, only derision, as if he fully expected her to turn tail and run at Dumbledore's request. He did not think her brave or capable; his doubt was written across his face along with his disdain for even extending the option.

"How would this change my life?" Hermione asked, ripping her gaze from Snape and focusing determinedly on Professor Dumbledore. "Would Voldemort want to keep me with him and the Death Eaters?"

"You can't be serious," came Snape's stunned reply.

"I think perhaps this is the sort of question Professor Snape might be more capable of answering," responded Dumbledore. "Severus?"

"Albus, you can't honestly believe this girl-"

"I believe we have already had this conversation, Severus," said Dumbledore sharply, "and you know my opinion."

Hermione glanced back up at Snape who was looking now as if he'd swallowed something entirely unpleasant and was suffering the after effects. Nostrils flaring and eyes flashing, the man looked back at her, striding forward until he was standing right in front of her, glaring down his hooked nose directly into her eyes.

"I think that if he believes you to have mixed feelings concerning your parentage, the Dark Lord would allow you to return to Hogwarts. He would seek to manipulate you and work through your desires in an attempt to seduce you to his side. He has never bent people to his will through torture, Miss Granger. We all came to him willingly, and he will want the same from you."

"And how am I supposed to convince him there's something… redeemable, about me?" asked Hermione. All she could feel for Voldemort now was revulsion, and she couldn't imagine that changing. What if when she finally stood before him that was all he could see, if he found her completely lacking and decided she wasn't worth the work it would take to turn her into his heir or whatever it was he was after? She felt her heart racing as a vision of his wand coming down at her played in her mind. She felt sick.

Snape shrugged, breaking their gaze and stepping back to lean against the desk beside her. "By telling him the truth. You could do nothing more. Let him see your disappoint at your mother's lie, your confusion and resentment that your status in the world has changed. These feelings are easily twisted and he will see the opportunity."

"And if all I can do is tell him the truth, how am I supposed to keep this plan from him?" asked Hermione, pointing out what she thought was an immediate and obvious flaw in the plan, her stomach settling somewhat but her pulse still racing.

From behind the desk, Dumbledore spoke. "Prior to sending you to meet with Voldemort, Professor Snape will assist you in creating Occlumency shields behind which you will be able to effectively store memories which might be detrimental to our cause. This is how we will ensure Voldemort does not learn that we know about his Horcruxes, and how we will keep my full involvement in this plan secret."

"Won't Voldemort notice if I've got big walls in my head blocking access to certain parts of my brain?" Snape scoffed and Hermione shot a glare his way. "What?" She demanded, "Have I said something amusing?"

"No, Miss Granger," he sneered. "Only demonstrated how ill suited you are to this task. An Occlumency shield is nothing like a wall. It is instead a series of memories which are manipulated magically and bound to other, less desirable memories. Think of it as plating a less precious metal with gold. The dangerous memory is hidden within the more attractive memory and becomes invisible to observers."

"Oh," said Hermione, not sure what else to say. For every question she had, there seemed to be an answer. It seemed as if Dumbledore really had given this a great deal of thought. And then something else occurred to her and her eyes widened and she felt herself begin to panic once more.

"Professor!" she exclaimed. "What about my parents? If I go to Voldemort won't he go after my mother?!" And she decided immediately if that were the case, she'd rather go into hiding with her mother and father than allow anything to happen to them.

"No, Miss Granger," Dumbledore assured her. "Before you are sent to him, your parents will be sent into hiding. They will disappear, even from you."

"Oh," Hermione said again, this time relieved. "That's good. Well then, it seems as if you have everything worked out."

Dumbledore inclined his head toward her. "As I said, this issue has weighed heavily on me as well. I have given it my full attention." Hermione nodded and sat back down in the squashy chintz arm chair behind her, unable to keep herself upright with so much weighing on her at once. And so she focused instead on Snape, who was leaning against the edge of his own desk, arms crossed and lips pinched together tightly. She noticed the uncharacteristically dark circles under his eyes and wondered whether he had been giving it a lot of thought as well. He didn't really seem in favor of the plan, but she wasn't sure whether that was because he didn't think it would work or because he didn't think she was capable of it. Either way, she thought she might agree with him. Her eyes fluttered shut as she thought. So much could go wrong. Even if Voldemort didn't kill her, Dumbledore could still die before he was defeated, and then where would they be? Would her friends find out and think her a traitor just as they did Snape? Would she be smart enough, strong enough… cunning enough to pull off her part? Could she convince Voldemort she was worth 'rehabilitating'? And worst of all, what if the lure of knowing more about who she really was proved too much and she really was seduced by whatever Voldemort was offering? It had happened to Snape and every other Death Eater… why not her?

 _Because your parents are Jean and Henry Granger and you are a muggleborn and you could never be anyone else._ The voice in her head was soft but insistent, and at its words, Hermione's eyes flew open.

"Okay," she heard herself say.

Across from her, Dumbledore nodded and stood.

"I appreciate you giving this serious thought, Hermione," he began, "It is a plan I think which could sway the outcome of this war more firmly in our direction. I think as you consider-"

"No, professor, I think you've misunderstood," she interrupted, standing as well. "I meant, 'Okay, I'll do it.'"

"You can't be serious," burst out Professor Snape, standing up to his full height and towering over her by a foot. She had to really focus to keep herself from cringing. "Of all the ridiculous and foolhardy things you and your brain-addled Gryffindor friends have done, this is the most idiotic."

"Severus-"

"No, Albus, I will not be silenced! I have been vetoed at every stage of your planning and I cannot stand by and allow this stupid girl to believe she is making some noble sacrifice." At this, he whirled back to face Hermione, leaning down until he was shouting in her face. "The very best outcome you can hope for, Miss Granger, is that you will be allowed by your _father_ to return to school and act as a double agent, and that in so doing you will provide the headmaster with a few extra months of life with which to possibly help Potter succeed in destroying horcruxes bloody fucking plural." Here he shot a dark look at Dumbledore before rounding once more on Hermione, "And the worst you can expect is that Voldemort will imprison or Imperius you into submission until such time as he _kills_ all of your friends and family, at which point he will begin to _reeducate_ you." He paused, breathing heavily, his eyes wide and full of fire as he scowled at her. "Nothing is assured here, Miss Granger; you agree at your own very great risk."

Hermione's eyes darted back and forth across Snape's face as he glared down at her. He was breathing heavily, his expression thunderous. Was he trying to scare her off or impress upon her all of the possibilities were she to agree?

"If the plan succeeds, though, will it give Harry a better shot?" she asked finally, voice soft.

Snapes eyes widened even more and she saw his lips clench together once again before he spoke in a sneer.

"Yes," he said grudgingly. "It would."

Hermione forced a smile.

"Then I'll do it," she said.

She thought the look on Professor Snape's face was quite worth the declaration, even if she did feel like she was going to vomit.


	5. Occlumency

**A/N: Thank you to those of you who reviewed. I've replied to each of you, and I will continue to reply as the reviews come in. All comments, questions, and constructive criticisms are welcome. :)**

 **Chapter Five: Occlumency**

 **May 30, 1997**

Hermione didn't know why she thought she would have more time before having to go to Voldemort. Somehow, when she had agreed to the plan, to spy and serve as a distraction, the consequences hadn't seemed immediate. The next Friday evening, however, as she sat across from Snape in the middle of his office once more, it all felt very real. _The Saturday after next_ , they had said. And here she was, the evening before her life would change irrevocably.

"I don't know what sort of foolish tales Potter brought back with him from his Occlumency lessons last year, but if you persist on blocking me from your mind, I will not be able to erect the shields we are here to create." Snape was glaring down at Hermione, a look she was so familiar with by now she was sure she could draw it if the fancy struck her. The deep frown lines on his forehead, the full lips pressed into thin lines, the high, sharp cheekbones and large nose.

"I don't know what you mean," said Hermione, bewildered. She had been waiting patiently, eyes kept carefully open as Snape had instructed. She had felt quite uncomfortable as he had stared into her eyes for a full ten seconds (she had counted) before breaking their gaze and berating her.

"Surely Miss Granger, you are not as air headed as the last few seconds would seem to suggest." He was sneering at her now, voice sickly sweet as if she were a particularly dense first year he was about to humiliate.

"Professor, I'm not sure what you want me to do," she cried, "You told me to keep my eyes open and to think of nothing in particular, so I counted in my head while you stared at me!" Feeling defensive, Hermione crossed her arms across her chest, refusing to meet Snape's eyes again. Across from her, the man sighed.

"Of course you did," he said, sounding amused and taking Hermione completely off guard. She glanced up, noting the small lines at the corners of his eyes as his mouth tightened into what might have been a smile if it didn't look so much like a grimace. "Because Miss Hermione Granger could not bear to be less than proficient at any magical art on her first try," he continued, and she wasn't sure whether he was mocking or complimenting her.

"Umm," she said, "I don't understand."

"How bitter those words must taste in your mouth." Now he was definitely mocking her. She frowned back at him, refusing to respond again. He watched her for several moments, seeming to revel in her discomfort before he spoke again.

"You seem to have, among other talents, a gift for focus. When I told you to think of nothing in particular, you took me at my word and emptied your mind. It is a rare ability, and one that your _friend_ ," he spat the word, "didn't have in the least. When I ask a normal person to think of nothing, their mind tends to flit from thought to thought, memory to memory, allowing me entrance into their minds. All you allowed me was black space and echoing numbers." Snape peered down at her now, clearly amused and perhaps a little impressed. He at least didn't look antagonistic anymore, and Hermione thought he wasn't quite as unattractive when he wasn't scowling or sneering.

"Oh," said Hermione at last, "Uh, thank you."

Snape, who had perhaps noticed he wasn't being unbearable, nodded once and frowned again.

"Now," he said, "while clearing your mind is a good defense against casual Legilimency, should the Dark Lord employ the use of his wand and actually speak the incantation, it will do nothing. He will do this if he does not see what he wishes to see during his initial sweep, so I suggest allowing him to enter your mind. That is why these shields are so important. Once he has entered your mind he will not be able to find your more incriminating memories." Hermione nodded, swallowing down the bile she felt rising at the thought of actually meeting Voldemort. When she thought of him lately, all she could see was the awful vision from the window she'd conjured, the red eyes roving over her mother and staring cruelly down at her…

"This time," Snape said, coming to stand directly across from her again, "I want you to let your mind wander rather than keeping it blank. Think of pleasant memories. Such things would not interest the Dark Lord overly."

"All Right," said Hermione, mouth dry. She looked up to meet his black gaze, thinking of how satisfied she had felt receiving her O.W.L. results. And suddenly she wasn't alone. She couldn't see him, but she could sense him in her mind, dark and sure footed in this land of memory. He seemed to gently take hold of her, guiding her through her own thoughts carefully at first and then at an almost breakneck pace. He whirled from memory to memory, finding everything with the mention of horcruxes and binding them somehow to the satisfied schoolgirl memories of her time at Hogwarts. She could not have described the experience afterwards, even having witnessed it at close quarters. She didn't know how he made the memories slide so effortlessly into each other, or why she could still recall them despite their masking. All she knew was that in Snape's hands, her mind moved quickly and efficiently. She watched as he skated from school work related memories to childhood and back again to Hogwarts. She remembered with a rush of joy the way she had felt at the Yule Ball, all eyes on her as she finally felt pretty for the first time in her life. She remembered afterwards, how upset she had been at Ron, how pleasant Viktor's lips had felt against her own, how heavy his hands had been as they trailed up her ribcage and over her-

She felt Snape withdraw abruptly. The sensation was jarring and for a moment she sat immobilised in her own mind, the feel of Viktor's lips against her own still present, his hands still roaming over her dress.

"Miss. Granger," his voice though low seemed loud to her ear and ripped her out of her memories instantly. Her eyes flew open and met Snape's gaze, dark and wide. She could feel herself breathe, her chest moving up and down as if she'd just been exerting herself as pleasantly as she had been in her mind. Her heart was racing uncharacteristically and she felt her cheeks flush as she stared doe eyed at her professor.

"Sir, I am so sorry," she forced herself to say, struggling to calm her racing heart and slow her rapid breathing. How embarrassing.

Snape cleared his throat, looking away from her and swallowing once before speaking.

"It is nothing," he said. "I apologize for the intrusion." His voice was stiff and he cleared his throat again before looking back up at her. His gaze was wary now and Hermione felt mortified. "I was not, however, finished," he continued, "I'll have to re-enter." Hermione nodded and forced herself to look back up at him and imagine something completely chaste.

He finished quickly. There had not been much more to do, and when he exited again, she could not recall any incident regarding horcruxes without also calling to mind a completely unrelated memory. Nor could she remember that Snape had built these Occlumency shields for her or that Dumbledore was dying and had a more intricate plan than simply using her as a double agent without also remembering things like her first birthday at Hogwarts or getting high marks on an Arithmancy exam. It was at once disconcerting and comforting.

"I believe that will be sufficient," Snape said at last. He looked more composed now that the last time, and Hermione hoped desperately that the same could be said of her. It had been so disconcerting to see him standing there before her, obviously as affected by the emotions in the memory as she had been and trying desperately not to let it show. She had never imagined him as anything but her Professor… but with the feel of Viktor's mouth on her, of his hands dancing across the bodice of her dress… it had been impossible for a moment to disentangle those feelings from the man standing before her, a man who looked rather more like Viktor Krum than she had ever noticed before.

"Thank you," Hermione forced herself to say at last, breaking the silence. Snape grunted in response and turned away, crossing to the store cabinet beside his desk and fishing out a small tin that had been stuffed somewhere in the back. Coming back to stand beside her, he thrust the tin in her direction.

"Eat this," he ordered, waiting for her to take thing and then then moving to sit behind his desk where he began to mark papers. Hermione watched him for almost a full minute before he looked up at her, and seeing the tin still unopened in her hand, made a disapproving noise. "It's not poison, girl," he said.

Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice and then nodded, sitting down in the once again spindly arm chair and discovering that the ragged looking tin held a thick slab of very dark chocolate. Satisfied, she broke off a small piece and began to eat, savoring the almost bitter sweetness and noting at once how it affected her. She had known since third year that chocolate was restorative after expending large amounts of magical energy, but she had never felt the effect before. Now, she realized just how taxing the work of building those shields must have been. If she felt warmer and more energetic now, how drained must Snape have been after the task? Without stopping to overthink it, she thrust the tin in his direction.

"Professor?" She said. He looked up from his grading, and seeing the tin, scowled at her. Still, he took it and quickly broke off a piece of chocolate, depositing it in his mouth with no fanfare and returning to the papers before him as he chewed. Hermione watched him again, noting the dissatisfied set of his mouth and the frown lines deepening as his eyes darted back and forth over the unfortunate scroll before him and his quill slashed viciously across its surface. By the time he had finished with the scroll, she had finished her chocolate and was sitting across from him, trying hard not to stare and imagining a way to ask the question that had been plaguing her for the last week without sounding completely ridiculous.

"Miss Granger, why are you loitering in this room?"

Hermione jumped.

"You didn't dismiss me, sir," she responded automatically. Snape raised a brow in her direction.

"Indeed." In his mouth, the word was two completely separate and unassociated syllables, and Hermione wondered idly whether he spoke that way naturally or as an affectation. After a pause, Snape spoke again. "I was under the impression, Miss Granger, that you would want to speak with me before we leave tomorrow. If I was mistaken, then you are very much dismissed." At that, he lowered his gaze back to his work and lifted his quill once more.

Wincing and deciding that she had better just get on with it, Hermione spoke.

"Actually, Professor, I did want to speak with you," she said. She saw the corner of Snape's mouth twitch as he set down his quill and looked back up at her. She didn't care if he was amused at her as long as he answered her question.

"It's just, I've never done anything like this," she said.

"Interrogated a professor? I highly doubt that," quipped Snape. Hermione just narrowed her eyes at him and continued.

"No," she said. "I've never tried to deceive a bigoted megalomaniac before." Snape arched a brow at her bluntness and she forced herself to go on. "I just… I don't know what to expect. What he's like. Aside from what Harry has told me, and I'm betting pretty heavily on Voldemort not trying to kill me, so hopefully what Harry told me has little bearing on what my experience will be."

"Do you have a point, Miss Granger?" Snape interrupted. Hermione swallowed and nodded.

"Yes. I do. I suppose what I'm asking is for you to tell me what I can expect. I've been having… dreams, and they aren't entirely pleasant."

"Nightmares," supplied Snape. Hermione nodded. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, surveying her for several moments as if deciding how much to tell her before finally speaking.

"Your dreams are not unfounded," he said, watching her for a reaction. She practiced focusing her thoughts, pushing back the fear and focusing just on Snape's words. To her relief, it worked. "Being in the Dark Lord's presence is never pleasant. Neither his appearance nor his mannerisms are those of other men. He is… unnatural. He was not always so. Before his downfall, he was a man, though a man heavily scarred by dark magic. Now, however, whatever humanity was in him is gone." Hermione imagined the serpentine face Harry had described to her, studying its planes and features for any hint that it had contributed to her own creation.

"When you go before him, you may see many unpleasant things. He does not recruit through torture, but he does not hesitate in using it to retain power and to punish error. And it is not just the Death Eaters he causes pain. To the Dark Lord, muggles are entertainment and their entrails are art." Hermione felt as if she might vomit. Snape sighed and continued.

"I think though, that it is important for you to understand that beyond the grotesque, there is opulence. The Dark Lord did not gain his base of spoiled pureblood followers by showing them horrors. He enticed them with a return to the old ways, with pomp and circumstance and courtly manners. He enjoys being fawned over and doling out gifts to his faithful. He thinks himself a king and the rest of us his loyal courtiers. It is a fantasy he has held for many years, and one which you yourself will play into, Miss Granger."

Hermione jumped as he said her name, forcing herself to look up from her hands which she had been studying.

"Me?" she said, "I thought you said all I had to do was tell him the truth."

Snape smirked.

"And that is all you'll need to do. When you are presented to the Dark Lord, you will act every inch the headstrong Gryffindor princess your other professors have made you believe you are, and he will admire you for it. You are, after all, his heir. He will mistake your foolhardy bravery for his own strength, your haughtiness for the pride befitting your mother's lineage." Snape stopped, chuckling deeply and startling Hermione as he did so. "What irony," he continued, "that the qualities he will so admire have been instilled in you by the Hogwarts house he hates most."

"Professor," Hermione said, staring up at him incredulously. "Did you just say that all I need to do is be myself?" She watched his expression go from confused, to shocked, and finally melt into amusement as a deep and unfamiliar laugh filled the air. Hermione's eyes widened at the sound, surprised at how pleasant it was despite its originator. Snape laughed for several seconds before finally seeming to gain control of himself. He schooled his features back into passivity, the only proof she had amused him at all in the subtle curve of his lips.

"I believe I did," Snape said at last, answering her question before picking back up his quill and motioning to the door with his free hand. "You are dismissed."

Hermione left at once, the pleasant sound of Snape's laughter still ringing in her ears.

The next morning, Hermione took her time getting ready for the day. She wasn't sure what she should wear. Would it be more dangerous to wear muggle clothes or her school uniform to meet Voldemort? She hadn't a regular robe to her name, and as they would be stopping at her parents house beforehand, she wouldn't have worn it anyway. Muggle clothes then, with perhaps a cloak to throw over herself. Peering at herself in the mirror of her small vanity, Hermione examined her features, wondering whether she ought to do something about her hair. It was a frizzy mess at the moment, nothing like her mother's usually sleek curls. Hermione had always wondered why the older woman had bothered with her hair each morning, smoothing it with expensive creams and sprays before ever coming out of her room. Now, having seen the beautiful Annora Avery with her magically managed and perfected locks, Hermione knew the attention to appearance was a habit that had likely held over from a pampered pureblood childhood.

Before she could give it too much thought, Hermione reached for the seldom used bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion she kept. Checking the expiration date to make sure it would still be effective, she slathered the stuff liberally onto her hands, running them through her hair and working it through the odd tangle until at last her hair curled perfectly around her.

"You should do your hair that way more often." Hermione looked up to see Parvati standing behind her, looking approvingly down at her hair. "It looks quite nice when it's not all over the place." Parvati looked back over her shoulder at the primping blonde girl on the other side of the room. "Doesn't it, Lavender?"

Lavender Brown, who was still not talking to Hermione after the incident in the hospital wing earlier that year, didn't spare her a glance.

"I'm sure it still looks perfectly horrid," she said nastily, powdering her nose and cheeks.

Parvati rolled her eyes and shrugged at Hermione. She'd been trying to make some sort of peace between her two roommates for several weeks now to no avail. Hermione only smiled kindly at the effort and stood up. "Thanks Parvati," she said, crossing over to her wardrobe and pulling out a pair of jeans and a charcoal blouse that complimented her fair skin. She dressed quickly, grabbing her heavy black cloak and shrinking it down to fit in her pocket before waving at Parvati and making her way out into the common room.

The room was more full than she normally saw it in the mornings. She supposed that was because she had waited until almost noon to emerge, unable as she had been to make herself get out of bed and face the day.

"Hermione!" Glancing to the source of the voice, she saw Ron waving her over to join him by the fireplace. She smiled warmly and made her way over to where he sat, taking the open seat beside him on the sofa.

"Are you feeling okay this morning?" asked Ron. Hermione nodded.

"I am. Just had a bit of a lie in," she answered. Ron laughed.

"You? Mione, I think my Mum's more likely to sleep in than you are. You must have been dead tired."

"Yes, well. I stayed up quite late studying. I think the sun was up before I actually fell asleep." The excuse fell easily off of her tongue.

Ron smiled at her as she answered, and Hermione felt a small tinge of concern that the sight didn't set her heart aflutter as it once had. She supposed it was normal that distracted and worried as she had been, romance wasn't the first thing on her mind… still, she wondered whether what she had felt for Ronald had been quite as strong as she had imagined if the consequence of such life altering news was that she felt impressed to avoid him rather than confide in and seek comfort from him.

"Far and away?" Ron spoke softly beside her, drawing Hermione's thoughts back to the present.

"Sorry," she apologized, "I was just thinking how hungry I am. Has Harry already gone to eat?"

"He's with Ginny, I think. If you want I can go down with you," Ron offered. "It's almost lunch time anyway. I could eat." Hermione laughed.

"You can always eat," she teased. Ron smiled sheepishly at her.

"A man needs nourishment," he answered.

They walked from the Common Room to the Great Hall in silence. It wasn't until they reached the Entrance Hall that Ron spoke again.

"Listen, I know you've been revising a lot lately, but I was wondering whether you wanted to go into Hogsmeade with me this afternoon. I meant to ask you last night but couldn't find you, and it's the last Hogsmeade weekend this year." Hermione watched Ron as he spoke. His ears had gone red and he was refusing to meet her gaze. "I thought maybe we could grab a bite… or maybe get some tea," he finished, his words barely more than a mumble now.

Hermione's eyes widened as she realized what Ron was asking.

"Oh," she said, not quite sure how to respond. She had completely forgotten it was a Hogsmeade weekend, and she hadn't exactly had time to think of Ron in the past two weeks. She knew things had become a little more complicated between the two of them since he and Lavender had split up the month before, but they'd never really acknowledged the change, and Ron certainly hadn't done anything about it. What perfectly awful timing that the thing she'd been hoping for for the past two years at least should happen now, when she had neither the time nor the desire to pursue it.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said at last. "I can't this evening. I'd forgotten Hogsmeade was today. I've made plans to revise with some people in Arithmancy."

"It's fine," said Ron, obviously fighting to hide his embarrassment as he pushed past her towards the open doors of the Great Hall. "It was a stupid idea anyway." And before Hermione could respond he had disappeared and she was left feeling like the worst sort of friend in the world.


	6. The Grangers

**Chapter Six: The Grangers**

 **May 31, 1997**

The sun hadn't set yet over London, though it hung low in the sky. With Professors Dumbledore and Snape on either side of her, Hermione approached her childhood home, the sun making the white front glow and the red front door look more like blood than the cheery color she'd helped her mother pick out as a girl. The front garden was perfectly manicured as always, her father's work. Though he could afford to hire a gardener, he had always taken pride in maintaining the greenery himself and spent every Saturday morning mowing and pruning and battling weeds. Of course, now he was nowhere to be seen. He and her mother would have just finished dinner and would probably be cleaning up at this point. If she had to guess, they'd be in the kitchen.

Hermione and her escorts reached the front door with little fanfare. She stared at the knocker for several seconds before Snape made an impatient sound behind her and reached out his hand, banging the brass eagle against the door three times. Hermione took a deep breath and glanced to her other side where Professor Dumbledore stood, his somber black robes the only concession he had made to visiting Muggle London. He smiled kindly at Hermione and spoke.

"Remember, Miss Granger, we haven't much time," he said. Hermione nodded in understanding and then jumped as she heard footsteps on the wooden floor on the other side of the door.

Heart racing, she stood perfectly still and held her breath. When the door swung forward the light of the sun caught her Father full in the face. His graying hair seemed to shine and as large as Hermione knew he was, he seemed somehow taller. He winced and raised a hand to block the light as he spoke.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

Hermione could have sobbed.

"Dad!" She said, throwing herself forward and wrapping her arms around her father's midsection as tightly as she could. She felt him stiffen for just a moment before he realized who had been at the door, at which point he cried out, "Hermione! Is that you, love?"

She nodded furiously against his chest and felt his arms wrap around her in return, giving her the comfort she hadn't realized she'd been seeking in the last two weeks. So far away from home, she hadn't been able to see her father, hadn't been able to hug him and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was his daughter and that he loved her no matter what. She had wondered whether the circumstances of her birth could mean that the bond she thought she had with Henry Granger was somehow less than she had imagined. Now she knew that fear to be unfounded. This was the man who had raised her, who had encouraged her to pursue her interests, who had comforted her when the other children mocked her. He'd told her bedtime stories and sung to her when she'd woken frightened in the middle of the night. No matter who she was biologically related to, that past couldn't be taken from her.

She disengaged from her father slowly and he pulled back, peering down at her with concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, seeing her troubled expression and sweeping her hair away from her face with one hand.

"Henry? Who's there?" came a woman's voice, and Hermione looked up to see her mother coming down the hall. She was a petite as ever, her frame much like Hermione's. Her dark brown curls were pulled back into a braid, showcasing her delicate features only gently touched by age. She came about halfway down the hallway before she stopped in her tracks.

"Hermione?" She said, sounding bewildered.

"Look who's come for a visit, Darling," Said Hermione's father, saving her the need to answer.

"My goodness," said her mother, and then, catching sight of the two wizards on her doorstep, her eyes widened even further. "Come in," she said at once, stepping to the side and allowing her husband to lead Hermione into the sitting room along with Dumbledore and Snape.

"Mrs. Granger," Hermione heard Professor Dumbledore speak in the hallway as her father settled her on the sofa. "I regret the intrusion. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts, and this is Professor Severus Snape, our Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor."

"Is everything alright with Hermione?" Jean Granger's voice was low and cautious. Hermione thought she heard a hint of panic as her father busied himself clearing old magazines off of the other seats before coming to sit beside her.

"It is a complicated matter, and I believe Miss Granger wished to discuss it with you. She is not harmed, however." This time it was Snape's voice that spoke, and as he finished, her mother led the two wizards into the sitting room. She looked uncomfortable, concerned. She glanced at Hermione with her brows furrowed and then motioned for the two men behind her to sit in the two arm chairs on either side of the sofa while she took the empty spot beside her daughter, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as she did so. Hermione, who had imagined she would feel more upset at her mother, was pleasantly surprised to find that all she felt was loved.

"Now, what the hell is going on," said Mr. Granger at last, looking from the Headmaster to Snape and back again. Professor Dumbledore spoke confidently in response.

"As I am sure you are aware, our world has been thrown into turmoil," he began, "Central to this turmoil is the return of a notorious wizard named Tom Riddle, who calls himself Lord Voldemort and who is waging a war against muggles such as yourself." Beside her, Hermione felt her mother stiffen, her arm turning to stone across her daughter's shoulders, her hand clenching painfully into her upper arm. Hermione winced but did not make a move to disengage the woman.

"What are you talking about?" asked Mr. Granger, honestly confused.

"Surely your daughter has kept you apprised of the events taking place in the magical world?" said Snape. Hermione winced at the tone of accusation in his voice. The truth was, she hadn't told her parents about Voldemort. She hadn't told them _anything_ that might have made them worry or think she was in danger. As far as they knew, she was a top student at school with several close friends who spent a great deal of time revising and lived in a world where magic was only used for good.

"Clearly not," came her mother's icy reply.

"Jean?" said Mr. Granger, looking at his wife questioningly. "What are they talking about?" Hermione looked up at her mother, wondering whether she would admit to knowing about Voldemort, or whether she would continue the charade she had kept up Hermione's whole life.

"I haven't a clue," she said after several long moments, relaxing her grip on Hermione and drawing her arms around herself, shifting uncomfortably on the couch cushion as she looked down at her lap.

Dumbledore spoke again quickly.

"I see. Unfortunately, we haven't much time to go into detail, but the result of this wizard's return is that your family is in danger. In her time at Hogwarts, Hermione has become close friends with Harry Potter-"

"The black haired boy," cut in Mr. Granger. "Are you saying _he_ has something to do with this?!"

"Only in that he is a target of Lord Voldemort… which unfortunately means Hermione is a target by association. "

Hermione looked back and forth between her parents, noting her mother's blank face and stiff posture, her father's look of disbelief and confusion.

"You can't be serious," said Mr. Granger at last, looking from Dumbledore to Snape and then to Hermione, staring at her expectantly as if waiting for her to start smiling and telling him the whole thing was a misunderstanding or a joke.

"I'm afraid we are quite serious," responded Dumbledore softly. "You and your wife are in danger, Mr. Granger. We are here to relocate you and provide you with every measure of protection we are capable of."

"Hermione?" her father said, sounding uncertain now and looking at her wide eyed and expectant. She swallowed hard and forced herself to speak.

"They're telling the truth, Daddy. I'm so sorry I've put you in this position."

Beside her, Hermione felt her mother begin to tremble, her eyes flashing as she looked from Dumbledore to Hermione. "We were _safe_ ," she said, voice little more than a whisper as she spoke. Hermione nodded, she couldn't think of what else to say, not here in front of her father, who she was now convinced knew nothing of her mother's past. He had been utterly confused at the mention of Voldemort's name.

"Mr. Granger," said Dumbledore at once, rising from his seat, "I am afraid I am somewhat parched. Would you mind terribly if we continued this conversation in the kitchen?" And despite the larger man's confused protests, Dumbledore managed to lead him from the room quickly, leaving Snape behind at the entryway and giving him a meaningful look before moving on. Snape merely nodded and continued to stand in the doorway, turning to face the two women on the couch but keeping his gaze averted.

And Hermione knew they had come to the part of this meeting she had been dreading most. Professor Dumbledore had warned her that they would have little time, but things had moved so quickly she hadn't had time to think of a way to approach the conversation. How did one tell a beloved parent that they knew their entire life had been a lie? Before Hermione had even considered her options, her mother spoke beside her.

"How could you not have told us," she said, "how could you have kept this from me?" Her tone was accusatory, her eyes wild and frightened and she shifted to face her daughter, grabbing her by the shoulders and squeezing hard. "Hermione, what have you done?!"

Hermione felt a hot flash of anger at the accusation and wrenched herself back, scrambling to her feet and looking down at her mother.

"What have I done?" she echoed, "What have _I_ done? What have _you_ done? Did you think you could just hide it from me forever? Did you think there was no chance I'd ever find out?!"

On the couch, Mrs. Granger's face went ashen and she stilled completely.

"I don't know what you mean," she said, voice toneless.

"You know _exactly_ what I mean, Annora Avery!" Hermione shouted the name, breathing hard and looking down at her mother furiously. Here was the anger she had expected, here were the feelings of betrayal.

In the kitchen, Hermione heard her father's voice raised, followed by Dumbledore's low murmurs until at last he seemed calmed.

"If you wish for this conversation to remain private, Miss Granger," said Snape from the doorway, "You might try to control yourself."

Hermione glanced at him and nodded once stiffly before looking back at her mother, who seemed to finally have found her voice.

"Where did you hear that name?" She asked at last.

Hermione shrugged. "A spell. Does it matter?"

Mrs. Granger stood and shook her head. "No," she said, "I suppose it doesn't." She paused and then, "Is he coming for me? For you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said, "He doesn't know yet."

"Thank God," said her mother, eyes closing briefly before focusing back on her daughter. "Hermione, you have to understand, I had to get out of there. I had to get _us_ out of there."

She couldn't meet her mother's eyes as she spoke, could only nod her understanding.

"The things he did to me… the things he'd planned for you… I couldn't let it happen. I started planning right after he - after I knew I was pregnant." Mrs. Granger closed her eyes and sat heavily back down on the sofa. "I was in love with your father, you see. No one knew. I was cleverer than Argus and my father combined and kept it from them. They would have been furious if they'd known I was seeing a muggle." The woman seemed lost in memory as she spoke, not caring whether her words made sense to the young woman in front of her.

"I told Henry everything and he said he'd run away with me… but I couldn't disappear completely if anyone knew, not even him. So he agreed to let me Obliviate him, to change his identity so long as we could be together, even to make him believe the child was his. I was four months pregnant before I was ready…" her voice trailed off for several long seconds before she spoke again. "When I was prepared I changed my hair color permanently, I was known for the blonde curls, and too vain to change my face. It was stupid of me, but it was the one thing I gave myself. When I had finished Obliviating your father-" her eyes flew open, full of tears as she looked up at her daughter, "I destroyed my magic."

Hermione heard Snape's quick intake of breath by the door and looked over at him. His face was aghast, even pitying.

"What do you mean, you destroyed your magic?" asked Hermione. She waited for her mother to speak, but when the answer finally came, it was Snape who spoke.

"It is a betrayal of one's blood," he said, voice low. "To destroy one's magic is to reject it completely, to sacrifice it and all of its potential. The witch or wizard takes their magic and makes it tangible, storing it in something fragile… and then they obliterate it. It makes you muggle, Miss Granger."

"And it hides you," said her mother fiercely. "Muggles cannot be found by magical means. Blood magic would no longer work on me, nor would tracking spells be able to find me. I could disappear!"

"At very great cost," added Snape.

"It was worth the price," Mrs. Granger hissed.

"What happened next?" asked Hermione, not sure she really wanted to know and yet unable to leave it be. On the sofa, her mother seemed to compose herself before speaking once more.

"We left, the three of us. We drove from Edinburgh to London and used the money I'd converted to begin dental school. It was difficult to begin, but we were happy. You father thought we were newlyweds who'd married quickly to avoid a scandal and that we were both orphans. He'll never know what he gave up for us. And then, Hermione, you started displaying magical abilities. I was terrified, but I had heard in passing the entrance to Diagon Alley someone mention You-Know-Who's fall… I thought we were safe. And when Charity Burbage came with your letter and didn't recognize me, I thought it was a sign. I thought you could have the life I would never be able to. No one would ever know you weren't the muggleborn daughter of two non-descript dentists, they'd never have a reason to suspect. No one would care."

She stopped speaking, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

Hermione didn't know what to say, couldn't imagine anything she could tell her mother would be comforting or helpful. So she sat beside her, wrapping an arm gingerly around her and then letting the other woman envelop her in a hug. The scent of her mother's perfume was familiar, reminded her of when she was small and would cuddle against her, seeking comfort from nightmares. God how she wished she could wake from this one.

A minute later, she heard a throat clear and realized that Dumbledore and her father had returned. Henry Granger crossed to his wife and daughter immediately, sitting on Jean's other side and embracing them both. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

"Jean," he said, "I think we had better go. Dumbledore's explained it to me, and I think we could all be in real danger." His wife looked up at him and nodded, wiping her cheeks and dabbing at her eyes with the edge of her jumper.

"I think you're right," she said, turning to Hermione.

"Do you have everything you need from school, darling?"

For a moment, Hermione was confused. And then the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach made sense and she realized her parents must think she was going to accompany them into hiding. She looked up in a panic, searching for Professor Dumbledore but meeting Snape's gaze instead. His black eyes were piercing, captivating her… strengthening her to do what she must.

"I've got everything here," she heard herself say as if from far away, "in my pocket."

"Good," replied her father, sounding relieved. "That's one less trip we'll need to make." And he made as if to rise from the sofa, but Hermione's arms wrapped themselves tightly around both of her parents before he could.

"I love you," she said, holding back the tears she felt welling to the surface and doing her best to keep her voice steady, "And I am so sorry about all of this." Her mother squeezed her back tightly, pressing her face into Hermione's neck.

"It's not your fault," she reassured her before pulling back and forcing a smile.

"Of course it isn't, princess," said her father, kissing her cheek. "And we love you too."

At that, all three of the Grangers rose from the sofa, husband and wife holding hands as they made their way out of the room and up the stairs to pack their essentials. Hermione stayed behind. She couldn't watch what came next. It was Professor Dumbledore who followed them up to their bedroom to modify their memories, erasing any trace of the daughter they both cherished.

Hermione just stood in the middle of the sitting room feeling quite like Judas. She hoped selfishly that Dumbledore left some trace of her in their memories, that they didn't go into hiding believing they'd never had a child… but she knew the plan. She knew that to keep them safe, to keep them happy, they could remember nothing.

"Miss Granger," Hermione jumped at the sound of Snape's voice, low and cautious. She looked up at him. He wore a look of concern she wasn't sure she had ever seen on his face before. "Are you ready to go?"

She looked around the room, trying to think whether there was anything else she needed from this house. Her personal things were safe at Hogwarts, her photo album and her cherished possessions stashed safely in her school trunk at the foot of her bed. At last she nodded.

"I think so," she answered. And she pulled her traveling cloak out of her pocket, waving her wand over it and returning it to its normal size. She didn't know how long she stood there, just staring at the yards of black fabric in her arms, but it must have been long enough to concern Snape. She became aware again when he pulled the cloak from her hands, swirling it deftly around her shoulders and clasping it across her collar bones.

"Thank you," she said as he stepped back. Snape only nodded and motioned with one hand towards the exit.

"After you," he said softly.

Hermione swallowed and nodded again, forcing herself to take first one and then another step forward. Before she knew it she was out of the front door, collapsing on her parents stoop with tears streaming down her face.

Professor Snape crouched beside her, placing one hand on her shoulder and the other beneath her chin, forcing her gaze up to meet his. His hand was warm on her face.

"Clear your mind," he ordered, and instinctively, Hermione felt herself begin to focus. She counted her breaths as she stared into her professor's eyes, wondering how she had never noticed that his eyes weren't black but darkest brown, with only the ring around his irises matching the blackness of his pupils.

"There," Snape spoke again, "Are you quite calmed?"

Hermione looked down at herself, felt her steady pulse beat in her neck, and nodded.

"Good," he said, "Then it's time to go."

And with one of Snape's hands wrapped around her bare wrist, she felt herself apparate into nothingness.


	7. The Dark Lord

**A/N: Thank you to those of you who have followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. :) I hadn't meant to post this chapter until Monday, but I just can't help myself. Please let me know what you think of this chapter, and feel free to ask any questions you have. Reviews are a fan fiction writers inspiration, I have discovered, and I'd love to get to know you readers better and fan girl with you.**

 **Chapter Seven: The Dark Lord**

 **May 31, 1997**

The breathlessness of apparition was followed by the cool, clean air of the countryside. The first thing Hermione noticed was that the sun had set. The western sky was tinged with deep orange, but the rest of the sky had gone dark and there were stars appearing above her head.

"Where are we?" asked Hermione, peering down the narrow lane on which they had appeared and seeing only darkness.

"Wiltshire," answered Professor Snape. "Now put up your hood. I don't want you recognized immediately." His voice seemed loud on the abandoned road and as Hermione pulled up the fur lined hood of her cloak, she looked around instinctively to make sure they were alone. Fortunately they were, and all she noticed was the high, neatly manicured hedge bordering the lane to their right. As Snape's footsteps began to crunch along the gravel path Hermione followed, trying to keep pace with her Professor's long stride.

"What's in Wiltshire?" She asked at last. Snape cast her a sidelong glance and Hermione thought she could make out a sneer on his face despite the ever deepening darkness.

"I was under the impression you knew our errand tonight, Miss Granger," he mocked, "Perhaps I over-estimated your powers of deduction."

Refusing to reward his insult with a reaction, Hermione instead fell silent, following him as they walked,until at last the hedge broke and Snape took a sharp right onto what appeared to be a wide driveway. In the distance, Hermione could see an ornate wrought iron gate, beyond which the hedge extended. As they approached, she felt Snape wrap his right arm around her. She stiffened as he pulled her close and raised his left arm, not breaking stride as they approached the gate. Hermione closed her eyes right before they reached it, hoping he knew what he was doing and that she wouldn't end up with bruises on her forehead from the collision. Fortunately, their stride did not break, and when Snape released her and she opened her eyes, they were on the other side of the gate. Still flanked by the tall yew hedges, they approached a large manor house, opulent to the extreme with lights glinting through sparkling windows and gilded front doors that swung open at their approach.

At the bottom of the steps leading into the house, Hermione hesitated.

"Come on, girl," Snape called from the entrance way.

Hermione tried to move, but she felt as if her feet had turned to tree roots and were keeping her in place. She couldn't do this, couldn't walk into this place voluntarily knowing what was waiting for her past those double doors. With an impatient noise, Snape turned back, grabbing her by her upper arm and pulling her inexorably forward. She stumbled once up the stairs and found her footing in a large, dimly lit hallway. She hadn't time to protest further because at that moment a voice spoke up ahead.

"Severus," The man's voice was deep, gruff, and familiar. Hermione looked up at the sound and barely prevented herself from gasping before dropping her face quickly back down, letting her hood hide her features.

"Dolohov," acknowledged Snape, keeping hold of Hermione's arm, his grip firm but not painful. Her heart raced as they stood there, remembering the last time she'd seen the Death Eater before her. Circe, he'd nearly killed her a year ago in the Department of Mysteries, and now she was supposed to expect that she could exist in his presence without fearing for her life?

"What've you got there?" the man asked, peering down at Hermione's slight frame. Even enveloped as she was by her heavy cloak, there was no mistaking her for someone of larger stature. She had always been petite, another legacy of her mother's.

"A guest," answered Snape shortly. Hermione heard Dolohov chuckle deeply as Snape began to pull her forward. She kept her eyes on her feet as they walked.

"I know this is an informal affair, but I didn't know we were bringing our sluts to this sort of thing," the other man leered. Hermione felt Professor Snape's fingers twitch on her upper arm.

"I think, Dolohov, you should watch your tongue." The other man laughed again, clearly amused.

"Or what?" He pressed, "You going to make me regret insulting your whore?"

Hermione felt the trailing end of her cloak brush Dolohov's boots as they swept past him and towards a heavy wooden door with a bronze handle. Snape paused there in front of the door and she heard him direct his words over his shoulder at Dolohov.

"Or I'll inform our Lord of your opinion regarding our guest." This seemed to quiet the other man as there was no response, only a clearing throat and the sound of footsteps coming to stand beside them. It seemed Dolohov was not eager to risk insulting an actual guest of Lord Voldemort's. Hermione wondered idly whether her actual status, whatever that was, would actually matter to the Death Eaters where it concerned her, or whether they would still see her as the filthy Mudblood who had gotten several of them, Dolohov included, sent to Azkaban after their failed mission at the Ministry.

Before her, the door swung open. Light filtered in under the cloak and she spared a quick glance up to take in her surroundings. The room was honestly lovely, and not at all the type of place she would have imagined a meeting of Death Eaters. The whole room was gaily lit by twinkling candles, a fire roared beneath a large gilded mirror, and the portraits on the wall chatted amiably. The furniture was sumptuous, the carpet beneath her feet ornate. She wondered whether the decor was Voldemort's choice, or whether some other wizarding family had lived here and created such an ostentatious space. Either way, she was reminded of Snape's words before. _Beyond the grotesque, there is opulence… he imagines himself a king._ And here in this over-done and over-crowded drawing room, she saw what he meant. This was the type of space in which great lords and ladies might receive and entertain their guests. She had even spotted a pianoforte on the other side of the room.

"Severus," Hermione recognized this voice as well though she resisted the urge to look up. "What a pleasant surprise. We weren't expecting your attendance this evening."

"How could I refuse such a gracious invitation?" Snape dismissed.

"You've never had trouble with it before," said the other man.

"Come now, Lucius, try not to be bitter. It is not your hospitality that keeps me away, only my duties at Hogwarts."

This then, thought Hermione, was Malfoy Manor. Suddenly the over-the top decorations and velvet furnishings made sense. No wonder Malfoy Jr. was such a spoiled little ponce.

"Well, it seems as if you've managed to break away this evening. And you've brought a guest," remarked Lucius. "Won't you introduce us?"

"I'm afraid I must save the introductions until I've had a chance to present her to the Dark Lord," said Snape silkily. "Has he arrived?"

Lucius, whose voice sounded more stiff than before, answered. "He is still above. Please, take a seat and make yourselves comfortable." And with that, he turned and crossed to the other side of the room.

From the doorway, Snape led her to a green settee in the corner of the room, finally disengaging his hand from her arm and sitting mere inches from her. From under her hood, Hermione was able to watch the proceedings as they unfolded around her. Several men approached Severus where he sat, all inquiring after his work at Hogwarts and after the guest by his side. As she listened to his answers she became quite impressed at his ability to dodge questions and give meaningless answers while still sounding perfectly polite. Of course, he had been at this for a very long time, so Hermione could hardly have expected any less.

Once the trickle of visitors ceased making their way to the corner where Snape and Hermione sat, she was able to watch the rest of the room. It was different than she had imagined. In her nightmares, the meeting had always been held in that same circle of trees she'd seen two weeks ago through the enchanted window in the library. It was always dark, the Death Eaters swathed in black and hooded with skeletal masks. The smell of blood, the harsh, taunting voices of cruel men echoing around her… How unexpected was this gathering then, where genteel looking wizards and witches in expensively cut robes mingled and laughed gaily at jokes Hermione couldn't hear. It was every inch a society event, she thought, the manor's drawing room setting the stage for a beautiful pageant of manners and tradition. She might have been impressed at the sight if she hadn't felt sick to her stomach at the thought that just above them, Voldemort lurked, preparing for some grand, courtly entrance.

"Severus." The feminine voice took Hermione by surprise, and she looked up from under her hood automatically. The woman standing there was tall and blonde, lines of worry etched on her face, her once beautiful features now pinched. Hermione quickly lowered her head. She'd seen Narcissa once before at the Quidditch World Cup, and though she doubted the woman would have recognized her from that meeting alone, Hermione's face had been on the cover of the Daily Prophet more than she would care to remember thanks to Rita Skeeter and her ridiculous brand of journalism.

"I'm so glad you were able to come this evening," the blonde woman continued.

"The pleasure is mine," answered Snape, rising from his seat and inclining his head. "It is always a treat to be subject to your hospitality."

Narcissa Malfoy smiled and extended a hand, placing it gently on Snape's arm before speaking. "You are always welcome here, Severus," she said, withdrawing her hand and letting it fall back to her side.

"And how is Draco? I must confess myself jealous that you see him so often, and I so little." There was a note of urgency in the woman's voice that Hermione recognized at once. She had heard the same worry in her own mother's words less than an hour before.

"He is well, though understandably stressed. His wounds are, of course, completely recovered," Snape replied. Narcissa made a disgruntled sound at the mention of Draco's injuries and Hermione winced. She could imagine what Mrs. Malfoy must think of the fight between her son and Harry which had ended with Draco's blood all over the bathroom floor.

"The Potter brat is a menace," she hissed.

Beside Hermione, Snape spoke, sounding amused. "A sentiment I have ever held," he agreed. "Dumbledore has spoiled the boy since he set foot in Hogwarts. A regrettable state of affairs which makes him all the more difficult to draw out." Hermione clenched her fists in her lap and bit her lip to keep from retorting, and when she braved a glance up at Snape's face she saw him smirking in her direction. The bastard.

"Well," said Narcissa, composing herself once more,"Let us hope he is only a nuisance for a short while longer."

Snape nodded his agreement and, as Mrs. Malfoy took her leave, he sat back beside Hermione who took the opportunity to scowl at him. He only chuckled and returned his gaze to the party.

Hermione did not know how long they had been sitting there in the corner by the time Voldemort descended, but it had been enough time for the Drawing Room to begin to overflow with people and for a set of wide double doors to be flung open and a terrace lit by fairy lights revealed.

She did not at first notice the change in the room when He arrived. She had busied herself watching the feet of the few dancing couples at the center of the room, trying to learn the steps to the dance they were doing. It wasn't anything she recognized from her ballroom dancing lessons as a child, though it was similar. She supposed it must be a wizarding version she hadn't heard of. It wasn't until the feet stopped moving that she realized the room had begun to fall silent, and the occupants to still.

She looked up as soon as she felt Snape stand beside her and felt his hand on her arm once more, dragging her to stand with him.

Voldemort stood alone at the entrance of the Drawing Room, his hands loose at his sides, his head held high. The first thing Hermione noticed were his eyes, red and menacing. They swept across the room once, twice, and a third time before finally settling on the Malfoys who stood tall beside the door.

"What a lovely turn out, Narcisssssa," he complimented, his voice high and sibilant.

"My Lord," said the woman graciously, dropping into a low curtsey and refusing to meet his gaze. Whether this was a sign of respect or of fear, Hermione was not certain.

He began then to make his way into the room, greeting guests as he did so and acting every inch the honored guest. Hermione grudgingly admitted that had it not been for the hideousness of his face, he might have looked the part as well. He was arrayed splendidly in expensive looking black dress robes cut to his tall frame. He looked powerful, strong… dangerous. She could see in his bearing what had enticed so many purebloods to follow the half-blood, muggle-raised orphan Tom Riddle. He was completely confident, expectant even, that his followers would bow to him and deliver the respect due his position as their Lord. Idly, Hermione wondered how the Malfoys must feel having another master here in their home.

At last, Voldemort had made his way to the other end of the room where there appeared a large and ornate wing backed chair.

"I am so glad that so many of you were able to join us this evening," he said, voice filling the large Drawing Room completely. "Please, do not allow me to distract you from your merriment." And with that, he took his seat, smiling in what he must have thought was a kindly way, and motioning for everyone to resume their activities.

"Come," said Snape. "It is time." But Hermione froze, not allowing herself to be pulled forward this time and practically yanking her arm from Snape's grip.

"A-are you sure?" She asked lamely, not prepared to let herself be revealed. "He doesn't, I mean, he looks as if he's not really ready to speak to anyone. Don't you think maybe if we wait-"

Snape tapped his foot impatiently.

"Stupid girl," he hissed. "The Dark Lord is among us to receive information. He is waiting for the two of us even now. Or do you think sitting here completely covered has somehow stopped him from noticing you?"

Hermione was trembling now, felt her knees growing weak.

"I don't think I can… I can't do this," she managed to get out. And just as she thought she might collapse she heard Snape speak beside her.

"Gryffindor courage indeed. _Imperio_!" he said. And suddenly, Hermione hadn't a care in the world. She was floating, flying in a world without worry. She couldn't remember what had frightened her so, could only understand that yes of course she ought to go with Professor Snape, he had only her best interest at heart after all. She allowed herself to be led by the arm, dreamlike. She crossed the drawing room without caring that all eyes were on her, ensconced as she was in the yards of heavy black fabric that concealed her. And at last, she stood at the feet of the Dark Lord, standing beside Snape who waited momentarily for a black haired man to finish whispering in Voldemort's ear before speaking himself.

"My Lord," he said, dropping to one knee and bowing his head.

Hermione watched the scene dispassionately. Of course if this was what Snape thought best, she would stand by and not interfere.

"Severusss," acknowledged the Dark Lord. "I hope you are well?"

"Far better for being in your presence, My Lord."

"Indeed. And who is your companion, Severus?"

Hermione could feel Voldemort's red eyes on her now, though she wasn't sure why the feeling discomfitted her. She stood still despite the odd sensation, eager to feel the peace she knew would come in obeying. Around her, the room fell completely quiet, every occupant waiting for Snape's answer. Hermione had gathered through the reactions at her presence that it was highly unusual to bring guests to gatherings where the Dark Lord would be present, and that it was normally only done when a new recruit was to receive the Dark Mark. Was that why they were all watching so intently? Where they eager to see their newest companion?

"I fear, My Lord, that to speak her name would lead you astray," Voldemort raised a brow as Snape spoke. "For though her name is known, her true history is not."

"Very well, Severus," interrupted Voldemort, "But your evasiveness bores me. Have you a point?"

Looking up from where he knelt, Snape met the Dark Lord's gaze and nodded.

"Yes, My Lord." Here he paused and Hermione felt her heart begin to race despite the perfect blankness in her mind. "I wish to present to you the daughter of Annora Avery, returned at last to her true home."

A collective gasp rose up throughout the room and voices began to murmur excitedly. Hermione could only watch the snake-like man before her. His eyes flashed in shock, his hands clenched on the arm of his chair briefly before loosening and coming to rest on his knees as he leaned forward towards Snape, keeping their gaze locked as he did so. Hermione thought he must be performing Legilimency though the thought didn't bother her at all. Finally, Voldemort stood, looking from Snape to Hermione and ordering in his high, commanding voice, "Release her, Severus."

At once, Hermione felt the fog lift from around her. She felt her pulse beating frantically, her knees trembling beneath her… but instead of the fear she had felt before, she was consumed only by anger. Without thought, she rounded on Snape.

"How _dare_ you?!" She spat as she took a step towards him, "Of all the horrible, underhanded things you've done, to perform an Unforgivable on me!?" Snape did not bother to look up at her tirade, keeping his eyes instead on the Dark Lord's boots. It was only as the other man began to chuckle coldly that Hermione remembered exactly where she was.

She whirled back to face Voldemort at once, backing away by several steps until she bumped into a white haired wizard who steadied her and then looked away immediately, releasing her and stepping back from where she stood as if afraid to have touched her.

"You certainly sound like Annora," said Voldemort, drawing Hermione's gaze up to his face. "She was easily outraged as well." And he stood, watching her for several more seconds before he ordered, "Remove your hood, girl."

Hermione's hands trembled as she stood beneath his gaze. She thought she should probably obey, but she couldn't bring herself to do it, couldn't convince herself that doing as he told her would make this any easier, and so she stood perfectly still, clenching her fists to keep them from shaking and raising her chin defiantly. If this was the end of Hermione Granger, then she would end well.

Around the room, voices began to murmur once more, shocked, Hermione expected, at her defiance. This time, however, Voldemort did not laugh, he merely raised his wand and flicked it lazily as Hermione flinched. Her cloak and hood disappeared at once, leaving her completely exposed in her jeans and blouse, her cascade of thick curls falling around her like a second mantle but doing nothing to hide her identity.

"My God," cried Narcissa Malfoy from somewhere beside her. "But that's Hermione Granger!"

Immediately, Hermione heard the sound of dozens of wands being pulled and pointed in her direction. She closed her eyes tightly and wished like hell that Dumbledore and Snape had allowed her to bring her own wand on this bloody excursion.

"Store your wands," said Voldemort at once, voice soft but commanding. Hermione opened her eyes at his words and watched as the Death Eaters around her reluctantly did as their Lord had bid them. He turned to Snape then.

"Rise, Ssseverus," he ordered. Snape obeyed, keeping his head bowed. "Now…" Voldemort's voice seemed to linger on the word, caressing it as he thought. "Explain yourself."

"Fenestram in Praeteritum," said Snape at once, looking up to meet the Dark Lord's gaze once more and grant him access to his memories. "I found her performing it. It showed you, My Lord, with Annora Avery. The Ritual. I knew at once I must bring her to you, but the problem of Dumbledore remained. How was I to take her from the school under his eye? You know, my Lord, the position she holds in Potter's affections."

At this, several of the Death Eaters in the room spat.

"Yesss," said Voldemort, "I think we are all familiar with Miss Hermione Granger."

"Of course, My Lord," said Snape before continuing. "I knew at once I could convince Dumbledore to send her to you. He wishes to use her as a double agent, My Lord. Of course, the girl has no talent for subterfuge. I wished only to bring her to you by any means necessary."

Hermione felt the weight of Voldemort's eyes on her again as she stood before him, surrounded by his loyal followers on all sides, wandless, and completely exposed. She felt furious at her position, that she should be made to stand here, to be gawked at and considered as they would consider a slug on hot pavement. Interested, disgusted, ultimately ready to put the creature out of its misery. Feeling a hot flash of anger, Hermione looked up, chin jutting out as she met Voldemort's gaze and glared with all her might. She felt the brush of his mind against hers, oily and black. She forced herself not to struggle, to let him brush the surface, to see her anger. Anger at him, at Snape, at Dumbledore for letting him bring her here…

Voldemort looked away, seemingly satisfied and then returned to his seat, sinking down in it and surveying the room and then Hermione once more.

"You look very much like your mother," he said at last, twirling his wand between his fingers and watching her as she stood completely still before him. "The coloring though… well. That must have been my gift."

Unable to control herself, Hermione scoffed.

"While other fathers give their daughters ponies, I am blessed to be the spawn of someone who thinks of genetics as a _gift_."

While the guests around her began to speak all at once, Voldemort only continued to stare at her, face impassive until at last he glanced at Snape, nodding once. Hermione watched as her professor advanced toward her and stared in open shock as for the second time he took her arm, piercing it with that wicked silver dagger and collecting her blood in a crystal vial he produced from one of his many pockets.

"Just to be sure," said Voldemort, his voice cold as Snape returned to his side, handing over the vial and standing ready for further instructions.

"Take her somewhere comfortable," Voldemort said after several long seconds, "And then return to me." Here, he looked up sharply at Snape. "We have much to discuss, I think."

"My Lord," bowed Snape, and then he was beside Hermione once more, wrapping his hand around her arm again and leading her through the crowd and out of the Drawing Room doors. She barely noticed that the crowd had started talking boisterously again as they left, or that every eye in the room was locked onto her as she walked, back stiff and arm throbbing. The only thing she could really think echoed in her brain over and over again as the doors shut behind them.

 _Alive. I'm alive. Thank God I'm alive._


	8. Reflections

**A/N: Happy Monday! Here's another chapter to start the week off. Many thanks to reviewers and readers alike. I love hearing from you. It motivates me to write more quickly. I just finished chapter seventeen (with lemons!) and if I churn out another 3 next week I'll be half way through the story! Happy reading!**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Reflections**

 **May 31, 1997**

As they walked quickly through the manor house, Hermione was left with only the vague impression that it was just as sumptuous in every other aspect as it had been in the Drawing Room. She supposed it would have been prudent to pay attention to the layout of the place, but she was far too disconcerted for anything but putting one foot in front of the other and allowing herself to be led like a pet. Finally, after several flights of stairs and hallways, they reached a large wooden door with a plaque Hermione didn't have time to read before Snape had flung the door open and pulled her inside.

The door shut behind them and at once she felt gentle hands on her throbbing arm, pulling it away from her body and drawing her attention. She managed to look up, focusing on first the hands tending to her wound, and then the man who owned them. The professor looked pleased, she thought. At least he didn't seem unhappy. His brow was unfurrowed, his mouth full and not pressed into the tight line she saw so often. If he hadn't just used an Unforgivable Curse on her she might even have been inclined to think charitably towards him for healing her arm.

"You're a bastard," she said instead as he dropped her arm and took a step back to look down at her. He merely raised a brow.

"My parents were married, Miss Granger," he assured her, "though I take your meaning."

"What the hell were you thinking?" asked Hermione, ignoring his statement and crossing her arms beneath her breasts, scowling at him as she did so.

Snape stared down at her for a moment before answering.

"I was thinking," he said levelly, "that you were about to collapse, and as satisfying as it would have been on a personal level to watch you embarrass yourself in front of every high ranking Death Eater and his wife, I felt it prudent to prevent such an occurrence and instead, aid our plan in succeeding."

"I was _not_ going to collapse," Hermione said stubbornly, though she was quite certain it had been a distinct possibility.

"Then you must be a very good actress indeed, to have given such a fine impression of someone about to piss themselves from fear."

"Don't speak to me like that!" cried Hermione indignantly.

Snapes eyes flashed and he bared his teeth as he spoke again.

"Miss Granger," he said, "Were we at Hogwarts you would have lost every house point Gryffindor has managed to earn this year for calling me a bastard, and yet you have the temerity to lecture me on the things I say to _you_? Have you forgotten, girl, that I am your Professor?"

"Really," she shot back, "Because earlier you were doing a fine impression of a great bloody Death Eater!"

"That is my job!" His expression was thunderous now, his face inches from Hermione's. They were both breathing heavily and Hermione could swear he was about to take hold of her and shake her until her teeth rattled. Instead, however, she watched in shock as his expression melted quickly from one of rage to the blank mask he seemed to favor.

"I think you forget yourself, Miss Granger," he said after several seconds. "I am not here to protect you, or to make this easier for you. I am here to benefit by betraying you. You agreed to this plan, and so we must both play our parts. When I am with the Dark Lord, I am who he expects to see. Do not forget that." He pulled away from her then, making his way back the the doorway and pausing as he opened the door. "You did well this evening," he said, voice so low Hermione thought she must have misheard him, and then he left, closing the door firmly behind him and leaving Hermione to stand in the middle of the room, quite alone.

She stared after him for a while, unable to tear her eyes from the door or get his words out of her head. She had done well? If by well he meant really embarrassingly she thought he could have picked a more fitting word. As it was, she'd nearly fainted, yelled at him in front of Voldemort, and then insulted the most dangerous wizard she'd ever met in her life. Personally, she thought she could have played it a bit more calmly. Still, she wasn't dead, so that had to count for something.

Turning away from the door at last, Hermione took in her surroundings. The room was done all in green. The walls were a pleasant spring color and the heavy brocade drapes a deeper forest green to match the coverings on the impressive Queen Anne bed that dominated the far end of the room. Of course the bed wasn't the only piece of furnishing. She imagined the Malfoys would never conceive of a guest room without it having not only someplace to sleep, but a writing desk, a sofa, several bookshelves full of leather bound reading material, and enough empty space to overwhelm their guest. Well, Snape certainly had taken his master at his word when he'd instructed him to stash her someplace comfortable. Not that it mattered, she couldn't see herself making much use of the room, and she hoped she wouldn't be obliged to stay there for long. If all went according to plan, she'd be back at Hogwarts before morning and wouldn't have to answer any awkward questions from either of the boys about where she'd been or why she hadn't come back to the dormitory the night before. She thought Ron might take that especially hard, considering the fact that he'd asked her out that morning.

Groaning, Hermione sank down on the pale green sofa by the room's fireplace. Ron, she hadn't the slightest clue what she was going to do about him. She knew she'd likely offended him by turning him down, and as a result he'd probably be unbearable and avoid her. Normally, she would have regretted it and tried to apologize, but with everything else on her plate she couldn't find it in her at the moment to feel charitable towards a hormonal teenage boy who felt she'd spurned him. As much as she cared for Ron, admired him, had wanted to be with him...she didn't think she could handle the theatrics involved in their quasi not really a relationship, not now. No, now she needed to focus her energies on surviving, on keeping secrets, on learning to act like an adult instead of a schoolgirl and on not accusing her professor of being a bastard.

Yes, Snape had taken her unawares, had used a horrible, dark curse on her… but he had also been right when he had told her that he wasn't there to protect her or make her comfortable. He was there to play a part, one she had just minutes ago admitted he was playing to perfection. How could she expect him to be her professor and the Dark Lord's servant at the same time? The same rules that applied to him at Hogwarts did not exist here; in this place he played by a different set of rules. Here, he wasn't her professor, he was Severus Snape, Death Eater. She wondered if she would ever be able to separate the two. _Well_ , said a bossy voice in her head, _you're going to have to_.

"Oh shut up," she said aloud, startling herself and looking around the room instinctively to make sure no one had heard her speaking to herself. Reassuring herself that she was alone, Hermione sighed and then settled back against the sofa, letting her head fall back to rest and her eyes close. As she sat there, she let her mind wander. She thought of her mother and father, wondered where they were, whether they'd gotten away safely. She was sure they had, Dumbledore had promised her he would see them relocated himself, though he hadn't told her where. She supposed it was for the best. If she knew, that meant Voldemort had access to their location as well, and that was the last thing she wanted. Just because she had decided to gamble with her life didn't mean she wanted the life her mother had fought so hard for to be forfeit. Wherever they were, she hoped they would be happy until she could retrieve them. She hoped they remembered nothing about her, that they were childless and happy about it, enjoying their time on some beach with endless supplies of money which could see them through their entire lives if it became necessary… if Hermione could never return for them.

She hadn't wanted to think about that possibility, hadn't really acknowledged it before now, but what would become of her parents if their side lost the war? What would become of Hermione Granger if Voldemort won? Would she disappear into some other woman, some sort of dark witch who accepted her fate and supported her father's ideas about dynasties and power? She didn't think so. No, Hermione thought, if it came to that she would run. She would do as her mother had and she would destroy her magic before she would allow herself to be used like that… and if that was impossible… she could cut herself off from Voldemort more permanently if there were no other options available to her.

Still, that possibility was a long way off, and she had more immediate problems to worry about. For instance, what would she do if Dumbledore and Snape were wrong and Voldemort refused to allow her to return to Hogwarts? What if he thought her too _muggle_ \- a distinct possibility after her display in the Drawing Room - and decided the only way the rehabilitate her was to keep her with him? How could she survive there? What would it do to Harry and Ron if she were to disappear like that? What if they found out who she actually was to Voldemort? That she was his long-lost daughter? God, it sounded ridiculous to even think of, but this was her life now, and she couldn't just keep ignoring it. She was Voldemort's daughter. He was her father. Not a father as her real father had been… but there was a connection she couldn't ignore now. She was his blood. She existed because of him. She told herself it meant nothing, but that wasn't strictly true. She didn't know what it meant… but the connection wasn't nothing. More important to her, though, was what it would mean to Voldemort. Had Snape exaggerated her importance, or did the Dark Lord truly value her existence as much as they had hoped? Would he care how she was treated, whether she was tortured? If he wrote her off as a lost cause would he kill her outright or, worse, use her to continue his dynasty by force? Hermione stood up abruptly. She shuddered at the thought and prayed things would not come to that. She could be better at this, act her part no matter what it cost her.

Her priority was Harry, she reminded herself, helping Harry to carry out his role, to defeat Voldemort. She would do whatever it took to accomplish that, to contribute to their cause. At this point, she thought that might be all she had left.

She felt suddenly very tired, drained, as if the events of the day had decided to take their toll all at once. She crossed to the door, making sure it was locked before eyeing the Queen Anne bed warily. It was late, she thought, and she had no way of knowing when the Dark Lord would call for her again. Perhaps it would be better to rest now when she had the chance. Wandless as she was, it wasn't as if she could really be any _more_ vulnerable in a house full of wizards. Sighing heavily, she made her way to the bed, pulling back the covers and sliding between them fully clothed. She could plan her next step just as well here as she could on the couch, she told herself, but before she had actually started thinking, she had fallen fast asleep.

When Hermione woke, it was to a room dappled by sunlight. Sitting up immediately she felt her heart begin to race. How long had she been there? What time was it? Were Harry and Ron missing her yet? Where the hell was Snape, why hadn't he come back for her last night?

"Missy is awake!" Hermione shrieked and practically jumped out of her skin as the squeaky voice called out from somewhere near her elbow. "Panky will tell the Mistress!" finished the little voice. Hermione had barely caught sight of the wide eyed house elf where it sat beside her on the bed before there sounded a loud _CRACK_! And it disappeared.

Heart fit to burst from her chest, Hermione sprang from the bed and rushed to the window. Sure enough, sunlight was streaming down, illuminating the ostentatious gardens beneath her window and making her wince. It had to be late morning by the sun's position, and she imagined Harry and Ron both had noticed her absence by now. Blast.

Another loud crack at her back made Hermione jump again. Fortunately, she managed to compose herself in short order and face the house elf calmly. This time she (for Hermione was fairly certain the elf was female) was bearing a wide tray laden with fruit, various pastries, and a steaming cup of what looked like tea.

"Missy is hungry?" asked the house elf, depositing the tray on the low coffee table in front of the sofa.

"Umm, yes, thank you," said Hermione, realizing that she was actually quite famished having not been able to eat more than a few bites of dinner the evening before. She sat down quickly, wondering briefly whether she ought to worry about poison before dismissing the idea and reaching for a scone. If Voldemort wanted her dead, she was sure he'd rather make a scene than let her die quietly in a secluded room.

Hermione ate under the watchful, tennis ball sized eyes of the Malfoy house elf. She wondered briefly whether the creature was a relation of Dobby's, or had been more recently bound to the manor. Still, she thought it might be a rude question and so she sipped her tea instead. After several more minutes of uncomfortable silence, Hermione spoke.

"Erm, Panky, is it?" The house elf's eyes widened.

"Yes, Missy," she squeaked.

Hermione tried to smile reassuringly and set down her cup.

"I was just wondering," she said casually, "whether Professor Snape is still here."

The house elf watched her for several seconds and then nodded to the affirmative. "He is in his room, Miss," she said, her high voice sounding cautious, "but Panky is only feeding you and bathing you and then getting Mistress to come and see you."

Hermione nodded vigorously in response. "Oh yes," she said, "I was only wondering. I wouldn't dream of asking you to do anything but what you have been told." She hoped her voice was reassuring, and by the relieved look on the little elf's face, she thought it had been. Perhaps the poor thing had been warned to watch out for any trickery on Hermione's part, and she decided at once she would do everything in her power to avoid contributing to any punishment for the elf.

After she had finished eating and the meal had been cleared, Panky returned and led Hermione to a door that opened into a spacious, marble lined bathroom complete with a magnificent looking claw foot tub with four different taps. Immediately the elf busied herself filling the bath, and when it was finished motioned for Hermione to approach. It wasn't until Panky's hands began to tug at her top that Hermione realized the elf was planning on undressing her.

"Oh, I prefer to do that," she said. The elf stopped at once, looking fearful and taking a step back, and so Hermione finished with, "But there is no need to punish yourself. You can still help me bathe! It would be so helpful if you could bring me soap and a towel and then guard the door to make sure no one comes in."

"Yes, Missy!" said the house elf, bowing deeply and trotting to a cabinet which apparently held both soap and towels, setting them out within reach of the tub and then leaving the room. Relieved to be alone once more, Hermione undressed and eased herself into the bath. It felt divine. Of course, she had always enjoyed hot baths, even in the muggle world where showers had been the quicker, more efficient option. There was something about being able to sink into the water and just _be_ that appealed to her. When she was in the tub she wasn't stressing over classes or exams or evil wizards bent on world domination. She just listened to her heart beating, her steady breaths. Unfortunately, she thought, now was perhaps not the time for quiet introspection. She washed quickly, rinsing and rising from the tub, her hair now completely soaked and sure to return to its normally bushy mass as soon as it dried. Wrapping herself in a towel and then grabbing another to dry her hair, Hermione briefly considered putting her clothes back on, but catching sight of the blood stains on both the blouse and the jeans from when Snape had cut her arm, she thought it might be a better idea to ask Panky if she could clean them first. Picking them up with one hand, she made her way to the door and opened it, calling out as she went through into the bedroom.

"Panky, I'm sorry to ask, but these seem to have- oh!"

Hermione stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of the lovely blonde woman sitting on the sofa, facing the bathroom door.

"Umm, I was looking for your house elf," said Hermione lamely, clutching the towel around her with her free hand and wishing suddenly that it covered more of her.

"I had gathered," said Narcissa Malfoy, standing to her full, rather impressive height and crossing the room to stand in front of the sopping wet girl who had become her unwilling houseguest. "I sent her away," she said, smiling down charmingly. At the sight, Hermione wondered whether this could be the same woman she had seen look so worried as she spoke to Snape the night before. Now, she looked nothing but calm and gracious.

"I had thought," Narcissa continued, "that I could assist you. A house elf leaves much to be desired in the area of conversation, after all." As she spoke, Hermione noted the faint hint of a French accent, buried beneath her proper English speech.

"Thank you," she forced herself to say, inclining her head and feeling the towel turban she had made in her hair bob.

"Oh my," laughed Narcissa. "I had forgotten you had no wand! Allow me," and with several practiced sweeps of the woman's wand, the towel was gone and Hermione's hair was just barely damp and curling in graceful waves around her. Glancing to the side and catching sight of herself in the mirror, she raised her brow.

"I think you'll have to show me that trick," she said. Narcissa laughed and grabbed Hermione by the arm, leading her to a tall wardrobe against the far wall which she opened and began to peruse.

"It is not so very difficult," she said as she looked through the robes in front of her. "You have lovely hair, it just needs to be handled a little more purposefully than most. I have a book of beauty charms my mother gave me when I was a girl. I'll have a copy sent to you." She pulled out a set of deep blue robes and held it up against Hermione, nodding once and turning to lay the outfit on the bed along with a pair of delicate, cream colored boots that had been sitting in the bottom of the wardrobe.

"That's very kind," said Hermione, following her over and examining the robes. They were made of silk and embroidered with delicate vines at the borders. They were really very lovely.

"Well," said Narcissa, "You didn't really have a proper mother to teach you these things, did you?"

Hermione's hands clenched tight in her towel and she had to fight to keep from snapping back at the woman.

"Now, do you know how to get into these yourself?" asked Narcissa, facing Hermione with a smile.

Hermione stared at her for several seconds before answering with a forced smile of her own. "I think I can manage," she said.

"Very well," said Narcissa, moving towards the door and pausing as she grasped the handle. She looked back over her shoulder and spoke. "I almost forgot. The Dark Lord has requested your presence this morning. I'll be back in ten minutes to take you down." And with that, she left, the door locking behind her and leaving Hermione once again alone in the room.

Her stomach seemed to flip unpleasantly at the other woman's words. She had known it was likely she'd have to see Voldemort again, but the news still wasn't welcome. Sighing, she let her towel drop, picking up the robes and pulling them over herself, finding the delicate row of buttons at the side and doing them up quickly. When she was finished, she turned to see herself in the mirror. The color complimented her very well, made her skin look more clear and her eyes more striking. And the cut wasn't bad either. The robes were apparently charmed to adjust to the wearer, and had cinched in at the waist and on the bodice, showing off her figure to advantage and dipping down into an almost indecent V between her breasts. She thought the outfit made her look older, more mature. She certainly looked a far cry from the Hermione Granger who spent her time revising in the library with ink stained fingers and frizzy hair.

She finished dressing quickly, slipping on the cream boots and then sitting down in a small chair by the door to await Narcissa's return. She wouldn't hesitate going to him this time, she thought. After all, she had insulted the Dark Lord once and was still alive. If he had wanted to kill her she'd be dead by now. Maybe she was valuable to him after all. She just hoped that value extended to a role he thought she could play at Hogwarts, because if she had to stay here playing nice with Narcissa until the war was over, she thought she might just go mad.


	9. Loyalties

**A/N: So apparently when I posted this story I forgot to attach the appropriate character tags to it. I fixed that, and now all of the sudden the views have quadrupled. So welcome to new readers, and thank you to those of you who found this story without any ship tags at all! To celebrate all of you, I decided to post another chapter today, though honestly I shouldn't because I'll only be eight chapters ahead after this. Please review with your thoughts and maybe threats to get me writing as if the very hounds of hell were at my heels? Also, if you're on tumblr please find me at** .com **so we can all ship together!**

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 **Chapter Nine: Loyalties**

 **June 1, 1997**

The Drawing Room looked different in the light of day. The candles that had decorated the walls and surfaces the night before were gone now and the fireplace was empty. The lush furniture that had dotted the room strategically during the party was now pushed up against the walls to make space for a long wooden table that seemed to take up the length of the room. Around the table sat the Death Eaters from the night before, this time dressed all in their black robes. Their number was diminished from the crush of the previous evening, and Hermione had the impression this was a much more formal gathering of Voldemort's lackeys.

"Ah, Narcisssssa," Voldemort's voice came from the head of the table and Hermione's eyes were drawn to him immediately. He was not dressed in the formal robes from the night before, but still, his black day robes were a cut above those of the men surrounding him. How odd, Hermione thought, that he should be so preoccupied with his clothing when it did little to detract from the hideousness of his face.

"There's a seat for you there, beside Lucius," he said, motioning to his left. Narcissa moved to obey at once, leaving Hermione standing alone in the doorway, staring in at the gathering. She noticed Snape at Voldemort's right as she surveyed the Death Eaters. He was dressed all in black and his slightly damp hair was brushed away from his face; it gave him the appearance of a much more casual man than she knew him to be.

 _No_ , Hermione reminded herself, _he is not your teacher here_.

"And… Hermione." The Dark Lord's red eyes focused on her and his serpentine voice lingered on her name as if to familiarize himself with it before he spoke again. "Are you aware you were named for your great-great-grandmother? Annora was fond of the woman in her childhood, I think. It is not a name I would have chosen, but it is no muggle epithet of which to be ashamed. I am surprised your mother did not choose something more anonymous for you. She calls herself Jean, I think?"

Hermione swallowed at the sound of her mother's name but did not speak. She wasn't sure whether Voldemort was trying to draw her into conversation or merely monologuing, and so she thought it a better idea to keep her thoughts to herself for the time being. As she stood there, uncomfortable under his scrutiny and those of his servants, he seemed to consider how to proceed. His long fingers drummed quietly against the table before him as he reclined in his high backed chair. At last, he spoke, beckoning to her as he did so.

"You may come in," he said. "I've saved you a seat here, beside Severus."

Her feet, which had the night before nearly failed her, were not so shy this morning. She walked steadily from the Drawing Room door to the other end of the room, taking the empty seat to Snape's right and sitting abruptly. The robes she wore billowed unfamiliarly around her, the bodice digging into her the slightest bit and pushing her breasts up as if to display them. She wondered if that was part of the magic of the clothes, or if it was just in the way they were cut. She glanced up at Snape after settling into the chair and noticed his eyes snapping away from her and back to the Dark Lord. She wondered for a moment whether he'd noticed her breasts as well before dismissing the thought as ridiculous and inappropriate. Instead of dwelling on what Snape may or may not have noticed, she followed his gaze, forcing herself to stare as steadily as he did at the man to his left. At close quarters Voldemort's skin was smooth looking and so pale it had almost a blue tinge to it. She wondered whether his skin had always been so pale or if it was a consequence of his rebirth. Her own skin was naturally pale, but rather than burning in the sun as her mother's did, she tended to tan. She supposed that must have been a biological trait she'd inherited from her father. From Tom Riddle. She tried to imagine him with a healthy, sun kissed glow and the thought nearly made her laugh aloud. Luckily, Voldemort chose to speak before anyone noticed her change of expression.

"I am pleased," he said, "that so many of you were able to prolong your stay here to meet with me this morning. After last night's surprise I thought it best to share with you, my most trusted friends, the full truth of what has transpired." He paused and looked at Hermione, who found herself listening just as attentively as the Death Eaters around her. It was, after all, herself that was being discussed. The Dark Lord continued.

"As many of you are aware, I once sought to reward the Avery family for their years of loyal service by binding myself through blood to their only daughter. The girl was… opposed to the union. Still, I and her family knew the benefits of such a binding. By giving her a child we together could create a magical being with the blood and talents of both Salazar Slytherin my forbearer, and of Rowena Ravenclaw. Such a child would have been a gift to the magical world and to our cause. Unfortunately, Annora Avery was foolish and foolhardy. After she conceived with my child, she disappeared." At the other end of the table, Hermione heard a small sob and turned to see a man whose hands were shaking so badly on the table that they seemed to have a life of their own.

"Avery and his father were justifiably punished for allowing her to endanger herself and my heir," he continued, staring coldly at the man quivering before him. "Fortunately, I think he has learned his lesson." The man let out a relieved sound and bowed his head at Voldemort, murmuring thanks and shoving his hands beneath the table. "Still, Annora was gone, and in my long absence assumed dead together with her child. I cannot blame my loyal servants for making such an assumption, as all magical signs pointed to her demise. Annora Avery, you see, while strong of blood and of magic, was the worst sort of witch. Rather than take her place by my side as the mother of my heir, she destroyed her own magic."

Around the table, several men gasped. Towards the middle of the table, a black haired witch Hermione thought she recognized as Bellatrix Lestrange spit on the table.

"Yes," said Voldemort, raising a hand to quiet the outburst around him, "The woman betrayed her own blood and lived as a muggle, bearing my child in squalor and filth, allowing her to grow up without her true inheritance, without her birthright. Rest assured," he said, looking at Hermione now, "When I find her, she will pay for it."

Hermione's blood ran cold at his words but before she could protest, he had continued his speech.

"Still, it is nature, not nurture it seems, which determines the worth of a witch or wizard. How many times have my friends and loyal servants complained to me of the 'little mudblood bitch' who continually outperformed their children at school? How often have they begged me to focus my attention on eradicating her as a message to other mudbloods who presume so much as she? What a fool I was, to believe it, knowing as I do that magic is not a gift made to muggles, but one inherited by blood. No common muggle spawn could ever have achieved as this child had, could ever have shown so much magical promise and might in such a short span of time. I should have known before Snape brought her to me last night who Hermione _Granger_ really was." He spat her last name like a curse and slammed his fist onto the table. "Not the mudblood child of two common animals, but the daughter of two of the oldest wizarding families in the world, hidden all these years but at last revealed to me." His voice had grown loud, his expression furious. Hermione was suddenly glad she didn't know where her parents were and could not put them in danger.

"Yes, this girl who has before battled and bested my Death Eaters could be nothing but my child," he said, tossing a bit of parchment with bloody scrawl onto the table before him. "Such has been confirmed by blood. You see before you not a talented mudblood as you have been led to believe, but my daughter, and my heir." He fell silent then, staring at her as the Death Eaters, all except Snape, seemed to lean forward in their seats, straining to catch a glimpse of the bit of scroll lying on the table.

Hermione, uncomfortable under the Dark Lord's scrutiny, looked down at her lap where her hands were clenched. She couldn't look at him anymore, not after he'd called her his daughter. To hear it said out loud by him was jarring, disgusting, still unbelievable. Perhaps it was his less than human appearance, but she could not look at him and see any connection between them. In the weeks since she had known, she had dreamed of Tom Riddle as Harry had described him from the diary… there, she could see herself in his face, but here? Here there was nothing to see but hatred, arrogance, and dark magic.

After the Death Eaters had had a chance to settle back into silence, Voldemort spoke again, his voice low and thoughtful.

"Still," he said, "while her blood and her magic do not suffer from her inappropriate childhood… it leaves her sympathies in doubt. We are all aware that in her time at Hogwarts she has managed to befriend not only mudbloods and blood traitors in Gryffindor house where she was placed by that ridiculous hat, but Harry Potter as well. I believe that given time, she will come to see the error of her previous choices and of the ways she has been taught in her youth… but we are at war with the scum that has overrun our world, and war does not leave us time to teach and to reform as we otherwise might." He turned to face Hermione again, leaning forward in his chair now and piercing her with his red gaze. "I wish, Hermione, that I could trust you as I should be able to trust my own blood," he said, voice gone low in a poor approximation of tenderness, "But it would be foolish to think it possible now, when you are so freshly pulled from the mire of your upbringing. Still, I cannot ignore your useful positioning at Hogwarts. Best friend to Harry Potter, golden girl of the school. The most talented witch of your age. I could not hope for a better spy."

"My Lord!" from the middle of the table, Bellatrix Lestrange called out, her oddly accented voice marked with disbelief. "My Lord, you cannot consider it! Already your spy in Hogwarts is suspect, and now you would consider adding another disloyal-"

"Bella," The Dark Lord's voice was casual as he spoke, but Hermione thought she saw danger flash in his eyes. "I think perhaps you would enjoy retiring to the kitchens and assisting the house-elves in preparing our luncheon."

Bellatrix fell silent at once. Her eyes widening as she remembered herself, she nodded and rose from the table at once, leaving the Drawing Room directly.

"Now," said Voldemort when she was gone, "Where was I? Oh yes," his eyes fell back on Hermione, "We were discussing your options."

"Were we?" said Hermione, voice far more congenial than she felt, "I was under the impression you were outlining your hopes for our future relationship." On the table beside her, Hermione noticed Snape's hand twitch.

Surprising her completely, Voldemort began to chuckle and then looked back at her, an indulgent smile on his face. "Am I not allowed hope?" he asked. "After all, I discovered a daughter not twelve hours past."

Hermione didn't respond, just folded her hands on her lap again and stared back at him, gaze challenging.

"No, we were discussing your loyalties, Hermione. I think you have made your disdain for me quite clear. Were you any other person you would die for it, but I believe given time and proper handling, you will come to realize what a gift you have been given. The treatment you have received for your perceived inferiority is a thing of the past. The limits of what you are allowed to use your talents for are lifted. There is no 'restricted section' of magic in my eyes, only knowledge and power, and those like you, Hermione, who have enough of it to make a difference to our world. You cannot tell me you are not at all discontent with Dumbledore or with your position in the world. I saw into your mind, girl, and I know that you see the old fool for what he is: just as eager to use you for the greater good as I am. We are not so different, he and I, though I am perhaps more honest."

Hermione tried to block out his words, tried to tell herself they were not at all enticing… Snape had, after all, warned her of Voldemort's tactics. Still, she allowed herself to feel curiosity at his words, to imagine what it might be like to have no restrictions, no loyalty but to her own power. She shivered at the mental image, at the coldness and the loneliness she was sure such an existence would bring.

"Given your pre-existing loyalties, however," said Voldemort, who had not stopped talking as her mind had wandered, "I think we are left with only two options for ensuring you are not allowed to endanger your future further." At his words, Hermione focused completely on the Dark Lord. Here it was then, the decision she had been waiting for. Now she would know what he had planned for her, whether she would be forced to stay with him and 're-educated' at once, or allowed to return to Hogwarts where she could continue to help her friends and pretend that this weekend had never happened.

"The first option is to keep you here with me," he said. Hermione's mouth opened into a small gasp before she could help herself and her eyes widened. Voldemort laughed.

"I can see you do not like that option any more than I do," he told her. "You see, If I were to send Severus back to Dumbledore without you, his place at Hogwarts and within the Order of the Phoenix would be diminished. He is far too useful to risk such a thing, a fact I think Dumbledore must have considered when sending you to me." Hermione allowed herself to breath. Voldemort didn't want to keep her there. She'd be allowed to return to Hogwarts! Her heart did what felt like a summersault and was considerably lightened.

"I cannot, however, allow you to return freely," Voldemort continued, watching her speculatively as he spoke. "I cannot trust that you would not then proceed to name each of the men you see here at my table, or that you would not wield your considerable talents against me and my cause. And so we are left with a conundrum. To keep you here would be to risk my foothold within the enemy's camp, and to send you back would be to provide my enemy with another weapon. Do you see my quandary?" He was silent for several long seconds before Hermione realized he was waiting for a response from her.

"It sounds like you have a lot to consider," she said lamely, not really sure what else she could say. She wasn't sure voicing her desire to return to Hogwarts wouldn't hurt her cause.

Voldemort laughed again and nodded.

"Indeed," he said. "Though I think I managed to find a solution as I pondered through the night. Would you like to hear it?" He was addressing her amiably now as if she were the only other person there despite the crowd surrounding them. Hermione nodded.

"I had considered the Imperius curse," confided Voldemort, causing Hermione to shudder, "but I could not guarantee your friends would not notice a change in you, or that Dumbledore would not sense my magic upon you and reverse the spell. I wondered how else to gain complete control over you, to ensure that you could not do those things which I wished to forbid. And then, it came to me." Hermione's heart was beating very quickly now, her pulse racing and blood rushing in her ears. Voldemort wanted complete control over her? And he had found a way to achieve it? Sweet Circe, perhaps it would have been better if she had been kept prisoner by him after all.

"Have you, in your studies, come across the term Sanguinis Copulam? No? I am not surprised. It is ancient magic which binds a witch and a wizard together by blood and by magic, ensuring complete loyalty and fidelity. It is a very old rite which is seen now as barbaric, but which is almost completely suited to our needs. It is a wedding ceremony, you see."

As the blood drained completely from Hermione's face, the Death Eaters around her began to whisper once more. They were, it seemed, as shocked as she was by their Lord's declaration, though she was sure she was the most horrified. She sprang from her seat before she could think better of it, stumbling back as Snape rose from his chair to come after her.

"You want to marry me!?" Hermione heard herself shriek in Voldemort's direction just as she felt Snape's warm hand wrap itself around her wrist and keep her from falling backwards.

Voldemort's only answer was a cold high laugh which his Death Eaters joined in, and soon the whole room was filled with mocking laughter.

"What!? shrieked Hermione, yanking her wrist away from Snape's grasp once she was steadied and shouting at the room, "What is so amusing about this- this- this obscenity?"

Behind her, Snape spoke in a low voice, his mouth right next to her ear and startling her with its closeness.

"They are amused, Hermione," he said, her given name sounding foreign on his tongue, "because the Dark Lord does not mean to wed you himself. Such unions are not possible through Sanguinis Copulam."

"Then who does he want me to-" His hand wrapped around her wrist again just as realization struck and she spun to face him, her mouth open, her eyes wide and startled.

He was staring down at her, his own face impassive, his black eyes giving away nothing.

"I trust," came Voldemort's voice from her back, "You are familiar with your future husband?"

As Hermione stared up at her professor-no, at the Death Eater Severus Snape, she said the very first thing that came to her mind.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

The laughter at her response was deafening.


	10. Sanguinis Copulam

**A/N: Wow, thank you guys so much for all the follows, favorites and reviews. I love knowing that this story isn't just interesting to me. And thank you to the guest reviewers I couldn't PM back! Also, please note that I'm going to start a regular posting schedule starting today. You'll see posts from me on Mondays and Thursdays until I'm caught up with my writing, and after that you'll see posts once a week. And before we begin reading the chapter, can we all just take a moment to think about the amazing Alan Rickman and everything he contributed to film and art and our lives? He will be missed. 3**

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 **Chapter Ten: Sanguinis Copulam**

 **June 1, 1997**

Hermione stood in the middle of the Drawing Room that evening, still dressed in the dark blue robes and cream colored boots Narcissa had set out for her that morning. The witch had offered to find her something more 'bridal', but Hermione had refused. After all, what was the use of looking like a bride when you didn't feel like one? The room itself had been transformed once more, the usual furniture and the long table vanished and replaced with an intricately carved stone altar covered by runes and dozens of chairs for the audience of Death Eaters who were now seated and staring up at the trio standing at the end of the room. How very different a wedding it was from the one she had imagined as a girl. Rather than standing in a church somewhere beside a man she loved and surrounded by people who cared for them, she was standing in front of a pagan looking stone next to a man she barely tolerated surrounded by her enemies.

At least in the end it had been her choice, though she wasn't sure she could really qualify it as such. Apparently, Sanguinis Copulam required the consent of both parties. The willing surrender of independence was a condition of the rite, and thus Voldemort's plan became impossible without her agreement. So he had given her the option. She could either stay there with him, an honored guest at Malfoy Manor, or she could agree to marry Snape and return to Hogwarts with him the following morning.

She had agonized in her room for several hours after she had been released to think about her decision. She had tried to remember every interaction she'd ever had with the spy, analyzing the experiences to try and find his motive, to reveal his true loyalties. She had even made a list of pros and cons (one side of which had predictably taken up considerably more space than the other.) Ultimately, however, despite all logic and examination, her decision had come down to one simple question: did she trust Severus Snape? Did she believe that he would not abuse whatever "loyalty" the binding ensured? In the end, though she hadn't been able to explain why or how on any satisfactory level, the answer was yes.

And that answer had brought her here to this altar, standing stiffly beside Snape who it seemed had opted to wear dress robes as well. Her hands clenched into fists around the loose fabric of her skirt. In front of them stood the Dark Lord, resplendent in another set of black dress robes. His wand was held high over the pair of them and he chanted in a language she wasn't familiar with. At first, she felt nothing, and then the shining silver tendrils of light shot out of the tip of Voldemort's wand, wrapping themselves around first her right wrist and then Snape's, tugging them up until at last they met and she felt Snape's large hand clasp her own. The lights wound around their joined hands and began to burn like hot wax, pressing them palm to palm, wrist to wrist. She thought she could feel his pulse against her own and when she forced herself to look up at his face it was just as disconcerted as hers. They stood there for several minutes, their hands burning under the winding lights as Voldemort spoke the words of the binding, only separating when they both had a chance to repeat a short phrase and the lights changed from silver to brightest gold before sinking white hot into their skin and disappearing from view.

The binding, it seemed, was through, because as Hermione felt herself being turned to face the room, there was a smattering of polite applause from the observers.

"Well done," came Voldemort's voice from behind them. Hermione glanced back at the sound, still feeling as if things were too surreal to actually be happening around her. Surely she hadn't just been married. She didn't feel any different, didn't feel any more loyal to Snape or to Voldemort. Her hand was still warm, but as far as she could tell that was the only difference.

"My Lord," said Snape, his voice sounding hoarse as he knelt down before his master.

"You have always been my most loyal servant, Severussss," said Voldemort, "and I know you will continue to serve me well." He paused and looked at Hermione. "Is she under your power?" he asked, curious it seemed, to know whether the binding had been successful.

Snape glanced up at Hermione, still standing stiffly beside him.

"I order you to kneel at once," he said. Hermione scoffed and shook her head, staring down at him defiantly until all at once she felt as if she couldn't breathe. There was something blocking her airway, a sinking feeling in her stomach and a panic so acute she thought she might collapse. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought occurred to her that she must kneel, that kneeling would save her, would bring the air back to her lungs and make her feel at peace.

The next thing she was aware of was the feel of her knees on the marble floor of the drawing room and the sensation of breathing air into her lungs again.

The surrounding Death Eaters were silent as Voldemort moved from his position behind the altar to circle around the pair kneeling on the floor until at last he stood directly before Hermione. He crouched down in front of her then, examining her features until at last he smiled, a horrible grin that showed his yellowing teeth. He looked over at Snape, smile still firmly in place, and spoke.

"Remember that her blood is worth more than yours, Severus," he warned genially, before rising and addressing the Death Eaters present. "You are dismissed," he said abruptly. "You will all remember your orders as you leave. I will not be crossed." The mass seemed to bow in unison, all of them then filing out of the room in silence until at last Hermione and Snape were left alone, kneeling on the floor at Voldemort's feet. The dread which had begun to build in Hermione as she had knelt beside Snape had reached a fever pitch as the true consequence of the binding she had agreed to revealed itself to her. The spell did not require mere loyalty, it required something far worse. Obedience. Complete, utter, and swift obedience which she could do nothing but carry out.

"You may retire, Severus," said Voldemort, looking down at his servant and his daughter, kneeling with bowed heads. "Don't be too unkind."

As he left the room, Snape rose stiffly, dusting off his robes where he had knelt and then looking down at Hermione as if he had just noticed her presence.

"You can get up now," he said, voice curt. His permission, Hermione noted bitterly, was what she had been waiting for. She rose gracelessly, knees sore and pride wounded. She turned her back to him immediately, walking stiffly past him and out of the room, boots clicking against the marble floor with each step. He followed her, not bothering to speak as she led the way from the Drawing Room up the stairs and to the guest room he had given her the night before. She took the time to read the plaque on the door this time, _The Green Room_ , it said. She scoffed, and threw the door open, steeling herself to turn around and face Snape as she did so.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," she said through clenched teeth. She noted his raised brow and look of confusion as she moved to shut the door in his face. Unfortunately, before she could close it, Snape pushed his way forward, catching the heavy wood on his shoulder and grunting as the force jarred him. Well, she thought, the bastard deserved it.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" growled Snape, pushing the door wide open again and stepping through into the room to stand in front of her.

Hermione crossed her arms beneath her breasts and scowled.

"I think that was perfectly obvious," she said, "I was making it clear that you are not welcome here."

"Not welcome? Granger, have you lost your bloody mind?" Snape was staring down at her incredulously.

"I don't think so," she said defensively, her voice gone high just as it always did when she was feeling panicked and put upon. "Just because we're… bound, or whatever the hell you want to call it..."

"Married," supplied Snape, eyeing her speculatively.

Hermione just scoffed and continued. "Just because I've got to obey every damned thing you tell me from now on, does _not_ give you the right to- to come into my bedroom and to, well, to take advantage of me in any way!" When she finished speaking, Hermione's voice was so shrill she thought she sounded like a house elf.

From his spot near the doorway, Snape watched her, brows furrowed as he thought until at last, he seemed to settle on a course of action and turned to shut the door behind him.

"I said I don't want to do anything with you!" cried Hermione, stomping her foot and looking about wildly as he locked the door and produced his wand. He warded the entrance quickly and then stowed his wand back in his robes before turning to face Hermione.

"Stop!" she cried as he took two steps towards her.

Snape snorted impatiently and gave her a withering look.

"Miss Granger, I assure you your virtue will remain quite intact for the time being. Now. Sit. Down." And suddenly Hermione saw before her not the Death Eater from the previous evening, the Dark Lord's servant to whom she had been bound just minutes before, but her old Potions professor, imperious and haughty as ever.

She sat.

"Now," Snape began, pacing in front of the settee upon which Hermione had settled, "I think perhaps a conversation is in order. You seem under the misapprehension that I wish to defile you in some way, Miss. Granger. I assure you that is not the case. I have not been waiting in the wings for my chance to pounce on the bushy-haired, buck-toothed know-it all who tried to make every bloody class with her in it another episode of the Hermione Granger show. I am not the lecherous old man you have no doubt been imagining."

"I haven't been-"

"Allow me to finish!" hissed Snape. Hermione frowned and fell silent. Snape watched her suspiciously as if he expected her to contradict him. When he seemed satisfied that she would remain quiet, he spoke again.

"The thought of bedding you, Granger, is one which causes me a considerable amount of distress," he continued. Hermione wasn't sure whether she should be relieved or offended at the proclamation. "And while it is a necessity of this curse to which we are both subject, it is not one I relish."

"It's what!?" cried Hermione.

Snape glared at her, looking near apoplectic, and she thought she had better let him continue his explanation, though if it was headed in the direction she suspected, she thought she might vomit.

"It is a necessity, Miss Granger," he said. "The binding is not complete until we join physically, and that physical joining is required by the Dark Lord." Looking weary, Snape sat on the opposite end of the sofa from her. "Knowing nothing of the ceremony we have participated in, I cannot fault you for your ignorance," he said, "but I cannot leave you to wallow in it. Sanguinis Copulam was the first wizarding marriage rite. It was a binding of blood and magic which served dual purposes."

"To make me obedient," supplied Hermione, looking up at Snape as she spoke. He met her gaze and nodded.

"Yes," he agreed. "But not to every offhand command. I must formally order you for the spell to take effect, as I did in the Drawing Room."

"Oh," breathed Hermione, finding that the knowledge relieved her somewhat. "So if we're in class and you tell me to do something…"

Through gritted teeth, Snape answered, "Unless I speak the words 'I order you' before my command, you are as free as ever to disobey me, though I warn you that no matter your marital status, such a choice will still result in the loss of house points."

Hermione nodded her understanding.

"Your obedience, however, is only one purpose of the binding. The other serves you rather than me. While you are bound to obey, I am bound to protect you. When you are in physical danger, I will feel the same compulsion with which you are inflicted, driving me to protect you from that danger."

Hermione's eyes widened at the news. Snape was bound as well? If she were ever in danger he would feel the same panic, the same breathlessness she had felt when she had tried to disobey him?

"Does that mean when I get a paper cut, the spell punishes you?" she asked. Snape shook his head.

"No, as with informal and formal orders, the spell distinguishes between things like paper cuts and an attack or mortal peril. If such circumstances arise, I will be compelled to come to your aid. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded. She understood far better now why such a binding as this might have once been appealing to witches and wizards. In an era where wifely obedience was already an expectation, she imagined that having the added assurance of a husband who was bound to protect you and who could therefore not abuse your obedience to the extreme must have been an attractive option. Still, she didn't understand what Snape had meant when he had said that them… being together, was a necessity. As far as she could tell, the obedience aspect of the spell was in full force, and she assumed that meant the protection portion was as well.

"The binding served a third purpose as well," continued Snape, catching Hermione's gaze and refusing to release it as he spoke. "It is more than just marriage vows enforced by a spell, it is a literal binding of magical power. My magic is bound to yours and yours to mine through this marriage," he spat the last word as if it were an obscenity, "and this binding of our intangible magics must be acted upon physically. As this is a union of husband and wife… that means sexual congress."

"Oh God," said Hermione, "So we have to… umm…"

"Quite," answered Snape. "Of course," he continued, "There are benefits to being magically bound. After the bond is made, we will both experience an increase in magical power and clarity of mind. Unfortunately, with time, this increase begins to diminish." He wasn't looking at her now, but at a spot over her head.

"Diminish?" asked Hermione, "as in lessen? Then what's the bloody point of it in the first place?"

Snape swallowed and seemed to force himself to look back down at her.

"I think the point is rather to ensure that the couple repeats the process, and renews the bond," he answered levelly.

"What?!" Hermione's voice was shrill again and she sprang from her seat, staring down in horror at Snape who was looking up at her with a cross expression of his own.

"As flattering as your outburst is, Miss Granger, I don't believe you really need me to repeat myself."

"Voldemort _knew_ about this?!"

Snape scoffed. "Do you imagine it would matter to him? Of course he knew! He deemed the increase to our power worth the repeated sacrifice of your virtue," here, he paused for a moment, "Assuming such a thing is still intact."

Hermione's eyes widened at Snape's words and she stared down at him in disbelief. "Professor," she said, "are you asking if I'm still a virgin?"

Snape shrugged and sat back in the settee, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. "It matters little to me," he answered, his black eyes glittering "but as a matter of curiosity towards the young woman I'm about to take to bed, yes, I am."

"That is none of your god damned business," Hermione answered, turning bright red and whirling around to face the fireplace which was now lit.

"Ah," said Snape, voice soft and smug, "So you are."

"You don't know that," retorted Hermione, whirling back to stare down at the man impetuously. "I could have shagged loads of guys. For all you know, Harry and Ron and I could be having great bloody threesomes in Gryffindor Tower nightly!"

From his seat, Snape arched a brow and smirked.

"Miss Granger, the most scandalous memory you seemed to have two nights ago was of being snogged tamely in your fourth year. Do you really expect me to believe you regularly participate in ménages à trois with the boy wonder and his pet weasel?"

"I could!" cried Hermione, feeling defensive now.

Snape, who was still smirking, nodded indulgently and conceded, "It might be a possibility."

"Thank you," said Hermione.

"Much as the Dark Lord deciding he loves muggles and wants to live as one, is a possibility," he added.

Glowering, Hermione turned back to face the fire as Snape chuckled.

"You needn't be such an ass," said Hermione, feeling quite as if she'd like to punch her professor in the mouth. She heard the man shift on the sofa behind her.

"Perhaps not, but it is better, I think, than ravishing you immediately as your father expected." Hermione's spine stiffened at the word.

"Don't call him that," she ordered sharply. She couldn't bear to hear the word used to describe the man who had put her in this position.

"Is that not who he is? I was under the impression that your relationship to him was at the root of our predicament."

"Yes," acknowledged Hermione grudgingly, finally turning back to look at Snape with her arms crossed once more, "but he was never a father to me. I had one of those, and he was brilliant. All Voldemort is to me is a sperm donor. Some man I inherited certain genetic traits from, but with whom I have no other connection."

Snape peered up at her from where he sat, taking in her defensive posture and the stubborn set of her jaw before nodding once in acknowledgement.

"You know," he said mildly, "that as this charade progresses, you must overcome that aversion?" Hermione nodded stiffly and Snape let the topic drop.

"Back to the subject at hand," he said instead. "Now that you know what is required of us, do you think it is a fate to which you might subject yourself willingly, thereby saving me the necessity of ordering you to comply?" Hermione's eyes widened, scandalized at the thought of being forced into intimacy by anyone, let alone her professor.

"You wouldn't," she said. Snape arched a brow again and stared back at her looking quite serious.

"I would do whatever is necessary to ensure you are allowed to return to Hogwarts as planned," he answered diplomatically, "assuming that is still your wish."

"Of course it is," cried Hermione.

"Then you know the price," said Snape. He was still reclined on the settee, his hair looked clean and soft where it fell to brush his shoulders. She wondered if there was something about Hogwarts that made it look so perfectly horrid as he taught or if he had paid it special attention this evening in anticipation of the events he knew would unfold.

Hermione sighed, sitting on the small chair beside the door once again and letting her head drop into her hands.

How splendidly awful things had gone. This visit which she had hoped would last a mere evening had gone on more than a day, and the mild consequence she had hoped for had been twisted to nightmare proportions. Here she sat, seventeen, the child of the Dark Lord, and magically bound to a man she had respected since childhood, but never really liked. And now, she was expected to give herself to that same man, using her body to secure her obedience and to increase their magical power. God, she had been reduced to a whore.

"Miss Granger." She looked up at the sound of his low voice as he crouched before her where she sat. His expression was not one of tenderness, but of determination. "I know you must be feeling as if your life has ended. In some ways it has. You will never again be the Hermione Granger you were before you met the Dark Lord. She is dead. Now you must do difficult, distasteful things and submit yourself to a power you know nothing of." He paused, taking her hands abruptly as he continued. "I cannot tell you it will be worth it in the end, that what you are fighting for will come to pass… but when I tried to warn you before, you thought the chance was enough. I hope you will remember that."

Hermione didn't realize she was crying until the first hot tear splashed onto her hand. She looked up, startled, and met Snape's gaze. He did not look so ugly at close quarters, she thought. His nose was large, but his lips were full and his cheekbones high and angular beneath those expressive eyes. She thought if she had to marry someone, at least he didn't look like a goblin.

"I don't usually cry this much," she said, not knowing how else to respond.

"And I do not normally hold with tears," he responded. "I think under the circumstances, though, I may overlook them."

He released her hands and turned his back to her, crossing back to the settee and allowing her her some privacy. Hermione took several minutes to compose herself. She wiped her tears and thought of everything Snape had told her, of her parents safe on some beach, of her friends anxiously awaiting her return at Hogwarts. She thought of Snape, offering her nothing but honesty as always, and of how oddly comforting she found it. If he could be so unfailingly honest with her, perhaps she could be unfailingly brave. Maybe she could do what was necessary without more girlish tears, without placing blame and allowing herself to become so distraught. She was Hermione Granger, after all, she thrived under pressure and blossomed in poor conditions. Maybe if she set her mind to it, her experience that night need not be entirely unpleasant. After all, it wasn't as if she couldn't use her imagination and supply a different man to the actions they would be undertaking. A kinder, gentler man who should have been her first. And a thought occurred to her as she imagined what being with Snape in that way might be like.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever had- I mean, are you… well, experienced?"

Snape snorted softly.

"Yes, Miss Granger."

"Oh," she said, "I had thought so, only I wasn't sure. And well, I think one of us probably ought to know what to do when it's time to… well."

"I'm sure I am equal to the task," said Snape mildly. Hermione blushed. "Why don't you go into the bathroom and clean your face," he suggested. "When you return, we can discuss this evening's activities in more detail if you wish."

Hermione jumped at the opportunity to escape him, springing from her seat and nodding as she practically ran to the bathroom door. She forced herself to slow before entering and looked back at Snape where he sat on the settee, his back to her.

"Thank you, Professor," she said, and then disappeared into the other room before he'd had a chance to respond.


	11. The Act

A/N: Just a quick warning to let you know there are lemons in this chapter, so if thats not your thing, I would turn back now. Also, I've been having trouble with the doc manager here at FFn. You can follow me on tumblr at lavonnallama dot tumblr dot com to see if anything like that is happening in the future, or to ask me questions or see occasional previews of my story. You're more likely to get a quick response from me there. Happy reading!

Chapter Eleven: The Act

June 1, 1997

It wasn't that she was a total innocent. Hermione Granger knew what to expect from sex. Her mother had had "the talk" with her at a fairly young age and she had known since then the mechanics of the act. And it wasn't as if she had been saving herself for marriage, but she had rather thought her first time would be with a man she loved and who loved her in return, someone she would spend the rest of her life with. In her fantasies, the ones that she had only ever indulged in late at night with the curtains of her four poster bed drawn shut and a silencing charm cast, the man she shared the experience with was most often faceless. Perhaps it had been odd that she had never pictured a boy of her acquaintance as the star of her intimate imaginings, especially considering how fond she had been of Ronald. She had day dreamed about him eagerly, her mind supplying long walks by the lake holding hands and affectionate cuddling in the Gryffindor common room. Still, when she had ensconced herself in her bed at night, no longer able to resist the pleasant sensations she knew she could elicit between her thighs, she could never bring herself to picture Ron's face, as familiar as it was.

Sighing, she splashed her face with cold water from the sink, wiping away the salty tears that had dried on her cheeks and trying to clear her mind. If she was going to go through with this tonight, she needed to focus. She had read plenty of romance novels and so was familiar with the things a man might enjoy. She wondered if she ought to try any of them tonight or just let Snape do whatever it was he had planned. Assuming he had anything planned. God, what if he had no plan? He had seemed certain that he could take charge during the event, but what if he was actually a horrible lover and she had to not only endure his attentions that night, but on a regular basis? What if she was an awful lover? She'd read about women who were cold and frigid and unfeeling and who ruined the experience for both parties. What if she was one of them? She hadn't ever thought such a thing before, given the feelings she had been able to elicit in her own body, but what if things were different when there were two people? What if she was so awful Snape couldn't perform and she was forced to stay at Malfoy Manor despite her willingness?

No, thought Hermione, that couldn't happen. They'd succeed tonight, that was all there was to it. Even if she was unfeeling and Snape's age meant he had circulation problems which prevented him from performing, she would find a way to consummate this god damned bloody sham of a marriage.

Grabbing a hand towel from beside the sink, Hermione dabbed at her face, drying it before looking up to peruse her reflection in the mirror. She was not unattractive, though she would hardly have called herself a great beauty. Her face was proportional, her skin clear and bright beside her attractively curled hair (she really did need to learn whatever charm Narcissa had used that morning), and her eyes were wide and fringed with long, sooty lashes. She supposed her face was pretty enough, though the rest of her body certainly left much to be desired. She had always loathed her small breasts and her uninspiring bottom. Compared to Parvati and Lavender with whom she had shared living quarters for the last six years, Hermione's figure was practically boyish. Yes, she had a waist and hips, but her frame was petite enough that no one ever really noticed, especially in the unflattering school uniform and robes at Hogwarts. She was lucky the robes Narcissa had supplied her accented her few assets, because otherwise she was sure the professor would take one look at her and lose all will to continue. It was a lucky thing she didn't look like a schoolgirl tonight, and that Snape in his dress robes looked little like the professor she was accustomed to.

Turning away from the mirror and leaning back against the marble counter, Hermione allowed her thoughts to turn towards Snape. No, he was not the type of man with whom she had ever imagined being intimate… but she thought things might have been much worse. As it was, he was forbidding, but not completely off-putting. The normally greasy hair which hung down his face as he taught was brushed back this evening, looking soft and clean. She could imagine touching it to be a pleasant experience. His mouth, so often pressed into a thin line of displeasure, had lately shown itself to be full and even enticing. She could imagine feeling it above her own, moving languidly and coaxing her further into an amorous embrace. And his body, so often hidden in the billowing robes he wore at Hogwarts, looked not painfully thin in his closer cut dress robes, but lithe and powerful. Hermione thought that perhaps if she could separate her memories and impressions of the instructor she had known up until now from the reality of the man waiting for her in the other room… well, maybe she need not imagine some other man that evening if she were able to focus on the positive physical attributes he held.

A sound on the other side of the door startled Hermione from her thoughts, bringing her immediately from speculation back to reality where she was nothing more than a nervous girl hiding in the bathroom on her wedding night. How exasperatingly cliche. Sighing once more, Hermione pushed herself away from the counter, forcing herself to walk to the door. Unfortunately, once she reached it she couldn't convince herself to actually take hold of the handle and pull the thing open. Merlin, she thought, what a perfectly ridiculous coward she was. She could face down the Dark Lord and survive insulting him, but she couldn't make herself open one bloody door.

"Come on, Granger," she said under her breath, "You can do this." When she had finally gathered her courage, she managed to grab the handle, twisting it firmly and pushing her way into the bedroom before she could think better of it.

He was right where she had left him, one of his arms now extended across the back of the sofa where he sat, his head tilted back slightly so that his hair brushed the seat. Even from behind, he looked far more relaxed than normal. She wondered whether that was a conscious choice on his part, or if he was actually more at ease here at the manor than in the halls of Hogwarts.

"There's still a seat here beside me," he said, not turning to look in her direction, but shifting farther to one side of the settee. Hermione gulped and walked over to sit where he had indicated, her boots clicking against the hardwood floor as her heart raced. She took her seat, sitting as far away from him as the sofa allowed and folding her hands in her lap to keep from waving them about foolishly as she spoke.

"Are you quite recovered now?" asked Snape, studying her from across the short space between them. He looked far more calm than Hermione felt.

"I'm better," she answered. And she thought it was the truth. She at least felt what was about to happen was necessary, and knew she wouldn't object when the time came. If it ever came. Snape appeared quite comfortable on the other end of the couch and didn't look as if he was inclined to move.

"I'm glad," he said, "Now, did you have anything else you wished to discuss before we begin?" Hermione's eyes widened.

"Begin?" she squeaked.

Snape arched a dark brow, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Yes, the word means to commence. The very first action in a chain of events."

"I know what the word means," snapped Hermione crossly, hands clenching together tightly in her lap as she scowled.

"Forgive me," Snape inclined his head in her direction and them moved towards her slightly, sitting up straighter and extending his right arm. Hermione tensed until she realized he was reaching not for her, but for a flute of what looked like champagne on the small table beside them. "I had thought we might enjoy a drink together," he said.

"Thank you," her own voice barely more than a whisper as she took the proffered glass, immediately raising it to her lips and draining it. From beside her, Snape snorted softly, his own glass still untouched in his hand, and then reached for the bottle on the table, refilling her glass without asking. Hermione blushed and nodded her thanks, this time taking a small sip and letting the flavor sit on her tongue.

"I take it alcohol is not one of your myriad areas of inexperience," said Snape, taking a sip from his own glass as she blushed.

"I'm not a lush," she said, "but my parents let me have champagne at holidays."

"And it was during holidays that you learned to acquit yourself so admirably?" Hermione blushed again.

"No. That was in the Gryffindor common room," she answered. To her surprise, Snape laughed and took another drink from his glass. She watched him as he did so, noting the ease with which he moved, the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He seemed to enjoy the taste of the drink.

"I always told Minerva she ought to keep a better eye on you all. It's no wonder Poppy complains about the number of Gryffindors she sees after Quidditch matches."

"Well," said Hermione, "Not all of my house-mates can brew their own sober-up potion." Snape raised his brow in her direction, looking curious.

"Unlike you," he supplied.

Hermione nodded, taking a sip of champagne as he continued.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, do you make a habit of brewing potions in your dormitory, or do you confine your extracurricular potions activities to the girl's lavatory?"

She choked on her drink at his words, coughing and spluttering as he smirked and moved closer, hitting her on the back with his free hand until she had regained control and her face was bright red from embarrassment rather than lack of air.

"You knew about that?" she asked, voice low and cautious. Snape laughed full throatedly, throwing his head back and seeming to revel in her question. Hermione just looked on, her embarrassment quickly turning to irritation.

"Not at the time," he said at last, wiping the corner of one eye with his hand and setting his champagne flute back onto the table, "But when you appeared in the hospital wing sprouting fur and a tail, the deficiencies in my store cupboard became quite apparent. I must compliment you, though, in brewing such a successful Polyjuice Potion; had it been substandard, I am sure your pelt wouldn't have been half as magnificent."

Irritation now morphing to anger at his words, Hermione gritted her teeth, glaring up at the man sitting directly beside her and crossing her arms tightly beneath her breasts.

"Is this your idea of wooing a woman," she spat, "insulting her and and laughing at her mistakes?" Beside her, Snape's eyes flashed and the smile on his lips faded away leaving him with quite a serious expression.

"Why," he said, his voice silken and low, tugging at something in her she hadn't realized existed until it responded with delight to his words, "would you like to be wooed, Miss Granger?"

She blushed immediately, her face burning as she clenched her own glass tightly. Still, despite her embarrassment, she couldn't force herself to look away. She matched his gaze steadily, her heart rate increasing as he peered down at her.

"I think perhaps you should put down your drink," Snape breathed. He was growing closer now and she could smell his breath, sweet and clean as he spoke. The champagne tumbled from her fingers to the floor as his lips descended on her neck, making her jump at the sensation of his breath tickling over her skin and his soft lips trailing from her neck to her shoulder. God, the feeling consumed her. She hadn't realized those full lips would feel so enticing on her, that they would send a jolt from her neck to her breasts that caused her nipples to tighten and made her gasp audibly.

"Has anyone ever kissed you here before, Miss Granger?" he murmured against her skin, his hand descending on her waist and wrapping itself around her until he had enough purchase to pull her closer to him. After several long seconds with no response from her, he spoke again. "Cat got your tongue?"

"No," she breathed at last, tilting her head to the sound of Snape's chuckle, allowing him greater access to the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck. She wondered as she did so whether she ought to be more resisting, more reticent to let him touch her like this. She pushed the thought firmly out of her mind. She would be an idiot to want to make any of this more difficult, and if Snape had decided to play nice and make things pleasant, why should she protest? As long as she remembered the reality of the situation when it was through, why shouldn't she allow herself to pretend in the moment that things were more romantic than they actually were?

They continued that way for several minutes more, Snape teasing her with his mouth, his lips travelling from her ear to her collarbone and everywhere in between. Hermione could feel herself growing incredibly aroused, the fantasies she had enjoyed in the dark coming to life with this man as she allowed herself to be wrapped up in the sensations, in her own soft gasps as his teeth nipped softly here and there. She found her fingers threading through his hair - clean and soft as she had expected - to be highly erotic, and the sensation seemed to encourage him as well, because as she clutched his head to her chest and he gently kissed the visible swell of one breast his hand raised to her shoulder, pushing the flowing sleeve of the robe down to expose her skin there.

It was then, as the fabric fell down, exposing the entirety of her shoulder and half of her breast, that Hermione returned to herself.

"Professor," she said, the panic she had felt before returning all at once with the force of a tidal wave.

"Mmm," his response came as his lips descended on her breasts, his hands wrapped around her waist, hoisting her up towards him and allowing him access to her.

"Professor, stop," she said, pushing at his shoulder roughly and throwing herself away from him. He released her at once and she tumbled backwards, her shoulders hitting the armrest of the sofa and making her wince.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" asked Snape, sounding more irritated than usual. He was breathing hard and his hair was in disarray from where she had been clenching it. His lips looked slightly swollen from use and his pupils were dilated. Hermione imagined she didn't look too dissimilar.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Hermione righted herself where she sat, pressing a hand to her furiously pounding heart and replacing the sleeve of her robe on her shoulder. "I just," she said, unable to really put her thoughts into words. "It seemed too much," she answered.

"Too much," echoed Snape, who sounded impatient now and whose eyes had narrowed to glittering slits. "Miss Granger, a little petting can hardly be considered 'too much' when very soon you'll be naked beneath me on that four poster bed behind you, your virgin blood on my cock."

"Bloody hell," breathed Hermione, "must you be so incredibly crass?"

Frustrated, Snape rose from his seat, grabbing his still full glass of champagne from the coffee table and draining it as he strode to the fire place.

"As long as you persist in your naivete, I'm afraid I have little choice but to be direct," he spat, his hands clenching the mantel above the fire, his back tense.

For a moment, Hermione felt a twinge of guilt. Perhaps she had been naive, not in denying the inevitable, but in letting herself believe the mask he had donned for the occasion. She had been foolish to assume he would not have reservations as well, that the thought of bedding a student wasn't abhorrent to him. Hadn't he said as much before she had hidden in the bathroom like a coward?

"I'm sorry," she forced herself to say, feeling a little ashamed now. "I know this can't be easy for you either." Snape turned to face her. He looked suspicious as he studied her, as if he was expecting not a true apology but for her to be provoking him in some way. Apparently she looked sufficiently repentant, though, because he just sighed and set his champagne flute on the mantel.

"No, It isn't," he acknowledged, "But I see no reason to let that ruin the experience completely. Did you not enjoy what we were doing?"

Hermione blushed and then nodded, clearing her throat and swallowing as she refused to meet his gaze.

"Then can we not continue in that vein? Must we perpetually pause to examine the unfairness of the situation, rather than enjoying the pleasant physical sensations which can be the fruit of our labor?"

She looked up at him. His eyes were glittering again as he watched her, his voice had dropped back down the the same silken tone he had used before kissing her neck. Hermione felt herself respond involuntarily, a shiver chasing down her spine as a small throbbing sensation pulsed insistently between her thighs.

"You're my professor," she said at last, giving voice to the issue which had plagued her most. This man was not just some random person. She knew him well, and in a completely platonic sort of relationship. Trying to pluck him from that role, no matter how different he might look here, was impossible when every time she thought of his title or his name she was reminded of the imbalance between them, of the history which made their union completely inappropriate.

From his spot near the fireplace, Snape spoke.

"Yes," he said, "and every time I call you Miss Granger, I am reminded of the fact that you are my student, no matter how delectable a figure you cut in Narcissa's robes." Hermione blushed at the compliment and Snape sighed again, moving once more to sit beside her, his elbows upon his knees. He watched her, seeming to consider something, weighing his options and deciding on a course of action.

"Would it be easier for you, if you were to call me by my given name?" he said at last. Hermione's eyes widened.

"You mean call you…" her voice trailed off and she gulped.

"Severus," he supplied.

"Severus," Hermione echoed, the name sounding foreign, somehow sensual on her tongue.

"Of course, such liberties should not be taken outside situations such as these…" his voice dropped again, "but I think considering what we are about to do, it would be appropriate." As he finished, he reached out with one hand, taking Hermione's own small one inside of his grasp. Oddly, she found she did not recoil from the touch this time.

"Severus," she said again, braving a glance up to meet his gaze. He smiled at her as she did so, standing and pulling her up with him.

"Now," he said, "Is it safe to continue, or should I expect to be thrust unceremoniously from you again in short order?"

Hermione gulped and shook her head, "No," she answered, "I think… well, I think I'm ready."

"We'll see, won't we," said Snape, his brow raised and that smirk on his face once more. But before she could comment on his expression, one of his arms had wrapped itself firmly around her, pressing her flush against him. Her nipples hardened almost immediately as he bent down, kissing and nipping her ear before moving down to the sweet spot on her neck. She was groaning as he moved them backwards, guiding her sure footedly across the floor until her knees were pressed to the edge of the Queen Anne bed. They fell back together, Hermione completely breathless at the feel of his long body pressed above hers. She could feel his chest against her breasts, solid and warm beneath his robes, and further down something large and stiff pressing into her thigh that she tried her best to ignore.

This time when she felt Snape's hand pull her robes down past her shoulders, exposing the tops of her breasts to his gaze, she didn't protest. Instead she allowed herself to revel in the sensation of his mouth edging down, closer and closer to the aching nipples covered now by the merest bit of bodice. His mouth trailed down, following the v-neck of the gown down between her breasts, kissing the bare flesh and letting his tongue trace patterns there. She could feel his hair, falling down as his mouth worked, brushing against her chest and making her gasp. Merlin, the sensations. She entwined her fingers in his hair then, guiding him up to kiss her breast directly again, noting his deep, reverberating chuckle as he edged the top of her bodice down and began to suck on her exposed nipple.

Her reaction was immediate. Her back arched, thrusting her breast more deeply into his hot mouth as she gasped and her eyes flew wide.

"My God," she uttered, a string seeming to tug between her nipple and the throbbing spot between her thighs, making her moan as he continued to lave her with his tongue. Soon, her other breast was exposed and she was gasping as his hand found her other nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it slightly and making her throw her head back in wild abandon.

"It's like that, is it," he said, his breath hot against her skin as he spoke. Hermione couldn't think beyond hoping he'd return to what he had been doing before, and so she urged him back down to her breast, groaning as he chuckled against her skin, encasing her once more in the wet heat of his mouth.

He took his time with her breasts, kissing and sucking them as he tugged the bodice of her gown down further, ripping out the delicate row of buttons Hermione had taken such care with that morning and tugging the gown down past her hips.

"No knickers, Hermione?" he said, his voice husky and his eyes hooded.

"There were none," she panted, heart racing as she felt his eyes roam over her body, lingering first on her breasts and then on the curls between her legs. She blushed and tried not to move under his gaze.

"A body such as yours is best viewed without in any case," he said, his eyes flicking up to meet hers as he spoke again. "Fair is fair, I think," he said, and with a flick of his hand and a bit of wandless magic, his own robes were gone and he was left in his black trousers above her. His skin was smooth and pale but for a few jagged scars on one side, his muscles were well defined and impressive. She found herself with the sudden urge to touch him, and without thinking she reached up, placing one hand on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm, strong and fast as he breathed above her, his glittering eyes staring down into hers.

Without a word he pressed himself on top of her again, kissing her neck once more and letting her feel the hard length of his arousal tight against her bare thigh, the only thing separating them the thin cloth of his slacks. As he moved above her, she felt his taut shoulder against her cheek. Turning her head slightly she let herself taste his bare skin and heard him groan in response. He thrust once against her thigh, moving down to suck one nipple into his mouth again as if to regain control. Hermione cried out, throwing her head back and thrusting her bare hips up towards him instinctively.

"Circe," she heard him groan, and then he was unbuttoning his slacks, pulling them down along with her robes until the both of them were completely bare and pressed together on top of the bed. Tentatively, Hermione reached down with one hand to where she could feel him pressed against her, wrapping her fingers all at once around his length. Her eyes widened at the feel of him, hot and smooth in her hand, like steel encased in velvet. He groaned into her shoulder, biting down and making her hand tighten around him.

"Fucking hell," he said, and Hermione felt her hands being pushed above her head and pinned to the pillow there.

"Severus," she breathed, slightly confused until he moved one hand between her legs, touching her there where no one but her ever had and sliding one long finger between the lips of her vulva.

"You're so wet," he whispered into her ear, brushing the tip of his finger across the bundle of nerves and sensations at the apex of her sex. She jolted in response, her back arching, her breasts pressing tightly against his chest. He continued to stroke her there, making her cry out and whimper as he stoked the fire that was building inside of her, sucking her still damp nipple into his mouth again as his hand moved and her hips thrust against him involuntarily.

"Please, oh please," she cried.

"Just a little more, Hermione. You're close now," he told her. And he was right, because in the next moment as his fingers stroked her up and down, putting delicious pressure onto her throbbing clitoris, she began to come apart beneath him, shuddering as her mouth opened into a wide 'O' and she clenched the bed covers tightly into her fists.

As her sex continued to throb, the after effects of the delicious orgasm she had just experienced still coursing through her body and her breath coming in short pants, she felt Severus shift above her. He groaned as his shaft slipped between her thighs, slick now with her own arousal. He moved deliberately, and soon Hermione felt him pressing against her entrance. He felt impossibly large and she gasped at the intimacy of the sensation. It felt so good, she thought, and she wondered how much better it might feel deep inside her where she was still clenching sporadically from the orgasm he had just given her.

He paused, meeting her eyes, his gaze determined and he stared down at her.

"Please," she said again, and he thrust forward in one sharp movement. It was not as painful as she had expected. There was discomfort but not so much that she thought she might cry out. Instead she winced, wrapping her arms tightly around Severus's neck and burying her face in his shoulder.

"Tell me when it is less uncomfortable," he gritted out. Hermione nodded once and continued to cling to him, waiting for the pain to ease and then moving experimentally.

It was his turn to gasp as she moved her hips closer towards him and his length slid further inside her.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," she said at last, looking shyly up at him from beneath her lashes. He peered back at her, studying her for a moment before withdrawing himself slowly and then plunging back inside her to the hilt. The sensation made her breath catch and her eyes roll back as his pubic bone met hers and she felt a delicious pressure against her still sensitive clit. He began to thrust then, withdrawing slowly each time and then plunging back into her depths. It felt incredible, and all Hermione could do was cling to him, panting as he took her. She was so full she thought she might burst and every time he thrust back into her she could feel him hitting something inside of her that she had never felt before. She was so close now, so ready to reach completion that she thought she might die if he didn't thrust just once… twice more.

She came again with a wail, her teeth sinking into his shoulder to muffle the sound as she jerked up against him, her eyes shut tight and her back arching off of the bed. And still he moved inside of her, his own eyes wide as he watched her, one of his hands moving from her hip to her breast to caress and then squeeze as his pace quickened and his thrusts became ever more shallow. When he came, it was with a gasp and then a long, deep groan. His head fell forward as he finished inside of her with one last, deep thrust, his black hair spread over her breasts and his breath still tantalizing the wet nipple he had been sucking moments before.

Hermione was boneless beneath him as he lay there, feeling his heart beat against her and wondering how it seemed to match the exact pace of her own. She had never imagined anything so extraordinary as this when she had brought herself to climax, had never known despite the textbooks and the romance novels that this was what it would feel like. The urgency, the desperation… the feeling that the world could go to hell as long as he just kept moving inside of her. She wondered if it was the same for him, if when he had come it had felt as if the whole world was his.

"Severus," she said softly, raising a hand to touch his hair.

At her voice, he seemed to stiffen, his hand on her ribcage moving at once as he lifted his head and looked up at her. The look in his eyes, part fury, part indifference, seemed to take Hermione's voice away. She pushed him off of her at once and he complied, rolling to the side without protest and swinging his legs off of the bed. Hermione felt suddenly empty and exposed.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," came Snape's voice, cold and clipped.

Almost violently, Hermione pushed herself up and to the other side of the bed, grabbing her robes and draping them around her shoulders like a shield as she faced the opposite direction.

"Go away," she spat, eyes blurring as she felt the anger and the outrage and the sadness welling up inside of her. What a perfect bastard he was to ruin this, to show her when she was at her most vulnerable how false their entire encounter had really been. Behind her, Snape paused, shifting on the bed as if to come towards her until she stiffened and stood, her back still to him. He stood then too, and she heard him pad across the floor and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Only then did she allow herself to collapse back onto the bed, her thighs still slick with their sex as the tears began to flow down her face.


	12. The Consequence

**Chapter Twelve: The Consequence**

 **June 1, 1997**

Severus Snape was a bastard, and Hermione hoped he rotted in hell. Perhaps had she not just been bound to the man and forced to surrender her virginity to him in an opulent guest bedroom of Malfoy Manor, she might have felt differently. The angry tears long since wiped from her face, Hermione stood wrapped in a sheet beside the disheveled bed, refusing to put any more thought into what had taken place there. Instead, she cast her gaze about until she spotted the deep blue of her robes peeking out from beneath the bed. She let the sheet drop from around her and pulled the fabric over herself, realizing too late that the delicate buttons meant to keep the outfit on her body were now scattered across the bed and floor. God damn Severus Snape.

No, upon further reflection, it wasn't the circumstances that had her furiously banging open the wardrobe and pulling out a set of black robes at random, it was the fact that after he'd used her so eagerly he'd treated her like some common whore. He'd had the gall to look at her as if everything were _her_ fault and then to _thank_ her as if he were about to leave a few sickles on the bedside table and take his leave.

Dressing quickly, Hermione was happy to find that these robes were sufficiently modest, sporting a high collar, long billowing sleeves, and no ridiculous fitted waist. They reminded her of her school robes and she only regretted that she didn't have her own muggle clothes to put on beneath them. As it was, the fabric brushed against her bare skin and she was reminded uncomfortably of how sensitive her nipples were, and of how damp she still felt between her thighs. She glared briefly in the direction of the bathroom where she heard Snape pacing across the marble floors and swore. Of all the inconsiderate, self-centered and brutish things the man had done-

Her thoughts were derailed as the door she had been staring at swung open and the man she had been cursing strode into the room. He was dressed again, he must have taken his own robes with him into the washing room. His hair was brushed back neatly and his expression gave nothing of his thoughts away.

"You've dressed," he said, eyes assessing her brusquely.

"Yes, well you took quite a long time primping in there," Hermione responded, her own tone nearly acidic. "I was hardly going to lie in bed waiting for round two when your first effort was so utterly disappointing." She smirked in satisfaction as Snape's eyes flashed and his nostrils flared, sweeping past him into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

She took her time bathing, scrubbing every inch of skin she could reach and letting the hot water soothe her as she tried to empty her mind. She failed, too preoccupied to let her thoughts wander away from her predicament for even a minute. Still, she took her time in the bathroom, making it a point to stay in an extra ten minutes past the time an agitated Severus banged on the door demanding she stop dawdling. When she finally emerged, she was composed. Her hair hung damp down her back, soaking the sensible black robes she wore and making her feel far less collected than she would have preferred, but Hermione Granger excelled at appearing unruffled by less than ideal circumstances, and she would be damned before she would allow herself to be anything other than entirely self-possessed in front of Severus Snape again.

"The Queen emerges," mocked Snape, standing by the door with his arms folded, an unattractive scowl on his face.

"What's next, Snape?" asked Hermione bluntly, choosing to ignore his remark and focus on the task at hand instead. Their plans had gone completely pear shaped, but she wouldn't just sit here simpering until he bothered to reveal their next step to her. She may still be his student, but she was 17 -of age in the wizarding world- and she was an intelligent young woman who was capable of not falling to pieces just because she'd shagged a cad.

He sneered as he replied. "Next, we take our leave of the Dark Lord, Madame Snape."

Hermione flinched at the name. "Don't call me that," she ordered. Snape's eyes flashed in response and she wondered briefly whether she'd offended him before remembering that she didn't care if she had.

"Come," was all he said in response. He opened the door, stepping through and waiting in the hall with a curled lip for her to join him. She briefly considered refusing to go to him before sense beat out her childish inclination, reminding her that her goal was to return to Hogwarts, even if it was with the boor of a man masquerading as a potions professor.

The walk back to the drawing room sped quickly by and before Hermione could really register what was happening, she was once again before Voldemort, trying hard to ignore the stone altar still standing in the middle of the room. The Dark Lord eyed the pair of them for a moment before nodding once at Snape and ordering him to "keep her in hand" and then turning to peer at Hermione.

"Until we meet again, Hermione," he said softly, inclining his head once as Snape's hand gripped her upper arm, dragging her away quickly. Her last glimpse of Voldemort was out of the corner of her eye as they exited the room. He sat in the same oversized wing-backed chair she had seen the night before, one elbow propped on the arm of his seat, his wand twirling idly between long, nearly skeletal fingers.

The walk back to the apparition point outside of the manor seemed to take no time at all. Whether this was because of the breakneck speed at which Snape was dragging her or due to the cacophony of thoughts and emotions swirling around inside of her, she could not tell. All she knew was that she was surprised by the unpleasant compression of apparition and left gasping for breath as they appeared before the Hogwarts Gates.

Snape did not wait for her as he strode forward, waving his wand toward the gate which swung open in response. Hermione followed, growing more irritated with every step until at last the sight of the professor's billowing robes ahead of her became unbearable and she stopped abruptly, shaking her head twice and then veering determinedly away from the path and towards the Black Lake which sat calmly reflecting stars in the clear night sky.

"Miss Granger," Snape hissed after her once he noticed that she had changed course, "Where do you think you're going?" Hermione didn't bother with a response, choosing instead to continue on her way and pretend as if the black haired man behind her didn't exist. She heard him curse impatiently and then the sound of his boots crunching across gravel as he made to follow her. Hermione moved more quickly in response, and by the time she reached the lakeshore she was out of breath and practically running. Letting out an involuntary sob, she wrapped her arms around herself. God, what a mess she was, her emotions were out of control she couldn't tell whether she was sad or angry. A chill breeze surrounded her, whipping her hair back away from her face as she squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying. She stood there for several minutes, focusing on her breaths and the bite of the wind on her face to stop herself from thinking too much about where she had come from and what had happened there. What a fool she had been to think she could keep from being a complete basket case tonight.

"Have you composed yourself?" Hermione berated herself inwardly for flinching at the sound of his voice before drawing in a deep breath and turning to face him.

Snape stood several feet from her, facing the water with his hands clasped behind his back. He did not seem angry as she had expected him to be, in fact, his expression was unreadable.

"How can you do that?" Hermione asked, clenching her fists in the fine fabric of Narcissa Malfoy's borrowed robes.

"What?" said Snape.

"Act so calm, as if something absolutely horrifying hasn't just happened."

This time he did look at her, his gaze sharp, his mouth sneering.

"I hadn't realized the experience was that traumatizing for you," he spat.

"You hadn't realized being coerced into some sort of magical contract that forces me to obey another person, by Lord Voldemort, who just happens to have raped my mother to conceive me, would be traumatizing?" she said incredulously. Snape's expression softened slightly as he examined her and then turned back to face the lake.

"I thought you were referring to… the other consequence," he said at last. Hermione scoffed.

"Well yes, that too." She watched as Snape stiffened in response and felt slightly ashamed. Just because he had been a complete ass following what had happened didn't mean she was right to treat him like some sort of disgusting predator. Sighing, she looked away and folded her arms again.

"I'm sorry," she said, "that was uncalled for. I know this wasn't your decision. I just feel so…" she let her voice trail off. How was she supposed to explain what she was feeling to this man, this spy who had spent almost as many years as she had been alive attached to the very same monster who had ruined her life this night?

"Betrayed," he supplied, voice barely audible as he continued to look out over the lake. Hermione swallowed and nodded.

"And powerless," she said.

"Angry."

"Ruined."

Snape looked up sharply.

"No, Miss Granger," he said, voice forceful now as he met her gaze. "You may be hurt, disgusted, and furious, but you are not ruined. You are not some delicate flower which once plucked is doomed. You are more than your virginity, girl."

Hermione stared up at him in surprise, not sure what to make of his declaration or how to respond.

"Now," he said before she had a chance to speak, "In a perfect world you would have time to come to terms with this myriad of emotions making a mess out of you, but we live in a very flawed time, and as such it is our duty to overcome our own sorrows and perform our duties creditably. Can you do that, Granger?"

Hermione nodded. He was right. She couldn't let everything that had happened cripple her.

"Good," said Snape brusquely. "Now, as curfew has passed, I will escort you back to your common room. Before we go, however, there is a small matter to discuss."

"What's that?" asked Hermione.

"I must order you not to speak of any of the events which occurred since we left Hogwarts with anyone other than myself and the Headmaster, unless I give you permission," Hermione stiffened as she felt the order immediately for what it was. There was a weight to it that she couldn't explain, like a magical layer laid within her that surrounded her trip to Malfoy Manor in secrecy. She knew that if she were to attempt to speak of it with anyone other than her professor, the consequences would not be pleasant. "Furthermore," Snape continued, "I order you not to reveal your true parentage to anyone who does not already know it. Do you understand?" Hermione nodded once, gaze stony. She knew he probably thought his order wise, but she found it insulting. As if she weren't capable of subterfuge without the threat of suffocation via archaic wizarding bond. As if reading her thoughts, Snape spoke.

"I do not order you about lightly, Miss Granger, and unless it is necessary I will not do it in the future. This time, however, I think it prudent to protect the both of us from even an innocent slip of tongue to one of your friends."

Hermione didn't bother to respond, she just stared haughtily at him, her arms crossed and chin tilted defiantly.

"Very well," Snape continued, one brow raised as he reached into his robes and withdrew a slender piece of vine wood Hermione would have recognized anywhere.

"My wand!" She cried, realizing at once how terribly she had missed having it with her at the Malfoys'. She snatched it from Snape's hand unceremoniously and clutched it close, immediately recognizing that with it she felt far more in control than she had just moments before.

"I don't think it will have to be confiscated next time," he told her, "Not with your obedience ensured."

Hermione nodded numbly, trying to pretend as they began the walk up to Gryffindor Tower that there wouldn't be a next time. Unfortunately, after she had disillusioned herself to make her way through the Gryffindor Common Room unseen and climbed into her bed, she could not stop herself from conceding that the past 24 hours had been the start of something she could never avoid. For better or worse, she was Dumbledore's spy now, and Snape's accomplice. There was no turning back, no matter the cost, because to do so would render her completely useless to Harry and to the cause she held so dear.

Feeling at once hopeless and horrified at what she had committed herself to, Hermione sobbed herself to sleep.

In the morning, Hermione woke with the sudden realization that she was not completely doomed. Yes, she was the child of a mass murderer, and yes, she had been married to and had sex with one of her professors who also happened to be a spy in her father's ranks, but none of that meant she couldn't continue at Hogwarts, helping Harry and working with Snape to spy as they had originally planned. For Merlin's sake, they didn't call her the brightest witch in her year for nothing. She was clever enough to handle this, and desperate enough to do it well. Besides, she was sure that given time, Professor Dumbledore could figure out the whole "marriage" thing. Certainly she and Professor Snape were magically bonded in a very crass sort of way, but that could hardly qualify as a real marriage in the wizarding world anymore. They hadn't even signed any papers! And with Dumbledore's magical prowess, she was sure he would he would be able to figure out a way to free her from the bond.

With that thought, Hermione drew back the curtains of her four poster bed and got herself ready for the day. She realized as she dressed that she was now short a set of clothes along with her heavy travelling cloak. She'd just have to order another one, because she was going to do everything in her power to avoid a return to Malfoy Manor.

The Common Room was quiet as she descended the spiral staircase from her dormitory, but not for long. As she stepped into the circular room there was a flurry of motion.

"Hermione!" Ginny cried as she, Ron, and Harry all sprang to their feet and rushed to surround her. Aside from the three of them, there were only a few of the younger years in the common room, any other students having already gone to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Hello," said Hermione lamely, not sure what to say to them. They must have been so worried for her when she didn't come back two nights in a row; she felt briefly ashamed at having kept them in the dark. They were her friends after all, she shouldn't have to lie to them this way. She trusted them… but she knew this secret could not be shared, not now, and maybe not ever.

"We were worried about you," said Ginny, reaching out to touch Hermione's arm and giving her a concerned look. "When Dumbledore came and told us yesterday, we were so relieved."

"Oh there's no need to worry, I'm absolutely alright," said Hermione, hoping her response was vague enough that it would seem like she actually knew whatever it was Dumbledore had said to her friends.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," said Harry softly from beside Ginny. He looked and sounded absolutely miserable. "It's all my fault."

"What?" said Hermione, "Of course it's not your fault Harry!" This, she thought, was always a fairly appropriate response when it came to dealing with Harry's tendency to blame himself for everything. When he wasn't blaming a Slytherin, anyway.

"Yeah, mate. Just like I told you," said Ron, who sounded much more mature than he usually did.

"Of course it is," insisted Harry. Ginny took his hand in hers and seemed to give it a gentle squeeze. She didn't, Hermione noticed, contradict him. Perhaps Ginny was wiser than both her and Ron. They'd never been able to talk him out of his negative moods very well in the past, maybe the trick was just letting him deal with things on his own. "They went after your parents because of me, Hermione, because you're my friend."

Ah, she thought. It made sense that Dumbledore would tell them there had been a Death Eater attempt on her parents' lives.

"Oh Harry," said Hermione, "It's not about you. All the Slytherins and their parents would hate me even if I weren't your friend. The fact that I'm a muggleborn and I'm cleverer than them is what's put a target on my back." Harry looked as if he was planning on contradicting her, but before he could, Ron spoke up.

"Either way, they're safe now. Dumbledore found out in time and got them out of there. Can we go to breakfast now?"

"Ron, you prat," said Ginny, swatting him on the arm, "Hermione needs our support right now!"

"Really, I'm fine," argued Hermione, "I got to see my parents before they went into hiding, and now I don't have to worry about them anymore. They're safe. And honestly I _am_ a bit hungry."

"See?" said Ron, scowling at Ginny as he started moving towards the portrait hole. Hermione noticed that he avoided her gaze on the way out and she remembered the last conversation they'd had what seemed like ages ago. He'd asked her to Hogsmeade with him and she'd had to turn him down. It looked like he was still sore about it. Hermione sighed but dismissed the urge she had to apologize again. She cared about Ron, but she didn't have the emotional capacity to be responsible for his feelings at the moment. She had quite enough on her plate as it was without trying to navigate the mess that had been their relationship. What she needed now was a friend, not a romantic interest. She hoped that her sudden lack of enthusiasm didn't hurt him.

The Great Hall was subdued when they arrived; Monday mornings were never the liveliest of times and this one was no exception. Hermione found herself oddly soothed by the quiet chatter and the normal breakfast sounds of utensils and of quills scratching out last minute assignments. None of them spoke as they ate. Harry, it seemed, was content to wallow in his guilt, while Ginny watched him and Ron focused single-mindedly on his breakfast. As for Hermione, she allowed herself to think about her school work but nothing else. She had an essay due in Charms that morning which she had thankfully completed the week before. She hadn't had a chance to re-read the section in Arithmancy, so two readings would have to suffice. She hoped her grade didn't suffer as a result.

The rest of the morning went by quickly and without distraction. It wasn't until Hermione was on her way to lunch from Charms after lingering to ask Professor Flitwick several in depth questions that she was forcibly reminded that she was no longer just a student.

"Hello, Granger," Malfoy's tone was just as haughty as ever, though he hadn't bothered to call her a mudblood this time. Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him. He stood behind her in the narrow corridor, his usual troll companions nowhere to be seen. "I was wounded you didn't bother to send me an invitation to the wedding," he sneered, "though I imagine you wouldn't want _that_ news getting out all over the school. I know I wouldn't want anyone to know I'd shagged Snape."

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy. You have no idea what you're talking about."

Malfoy laughed bitterly. "I think you'll find I'm fairly well informed," he told her. "My position comes with a wealth of information."

"Your position?" pressed Hermione, though she was fairly certain she knew what he was referring to.

"Don't act dumb, Granger. I know you spent a great deal of time with my parents yesterday. You know what my family is involved with."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him she may have had the distinct displeasure of spending time with his parents that weekend, but it didn't mean she knew anything about his own involvement… but before she could get out a single word her throat seemed to constrict and her stomach sank and her field of vision narrowed until her mouth closed and she was able to take a deep, gasping breath. She panted as she attempted to regain her sense of balance, and when at last she didn't feel as if she was in danger of vomiting or passing out, she looked back up at Malfoy.

"My God, it's true, isn't it?"

This time, Hermione knew better than to respond. Curse Severus Snape and his fucking orders. She couldn't answer Malfoy even if she had wanted to. Malfoy studied her where she stood, his gaze pitying until at last he spoke. "I feel sorry for you, Granger," he said at last, and she couldn't see a speck of insincerity on his face. "You've no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

"I don't know what you're talking about Malfoy," she whispered, at once amazed and horrified by the expression on his face. Even Draco Malfoy pitied her, and what was more, he looked afraid for her.

"Right," said Malfoy, clearing his throat and sneering as a group of third years rounded the corner into their corridor. "Out of my way," he ordered, sweeping past them imperiously.

The rest of the day passed in a haze, but this time she was unable to avoid thoughts of what had transpired the night before and of the position Dumbledore had put her in. No, that was unfair. She had made the decision to do this, for Harry and for the whole Wizarding world. She had put herself in this position, and she needed to stop pitying herself because of it. This situation she had put herself in didn't make her weak or powerless, no matter what her magic did to her in response to Snape's orders. No, she was in a position of power now, a spy within the enemy's ranks who was so well placed that Voldemort valued her life. She held power because of her very existence, the only trick would be learning how to use that power effectively for good.

She left dinner before her friends, claiming exhaustion and insisting they stay to finish their meals. The boys bid her good night, Harry still looking guiltily at her and Ron avoiding her gaze, and Hermione made her way slowly back up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione flinched and whirled around, catching sight of Snape behind her, his pace quick as he approached her, his robes billowing about him.

"Professor," she said by way of greeting.

"Do stop loitering," Snape snapped at a pair of Hufflepuffs who stood watching at the end of the hall. Both girls jumped and fled and he turned back to face Hermione. He paused for a moment as if listening to the younger students retreat before wrapping a hand around Hermione's upper arm and dragging her sideways into an abandoned classroom she hadn't noticed before.

"I trust your day transpired without incident?" he scowled at her as he spoke, thrusting her towards a nearby desk and standing in front of the exit.

Hermione only nodded, refusing to give the obviously disgruntled professor a reason to shout at her. Snape's lip curled into a scathing sneer.

"I suppose you don't count a confrontation with Draco Malfoy in the hallway an incident, do you?"

Hermione cleared her throat.

"No sir, I don't. It was a conversation."

Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

"A conversation," he echoed, voice gone soft and silken, "A conversation in which he referred to your _marriage_ , perhaps? And to the fact that you spent the weekend at Malfoy Manor?"

Hermione's eyes widened as Snape spoke.

"A conversation," he continued, voice growing even softer, "which I was forced to remove from the memories of three confused Slytherin third years, perhaps?"

"Um, yes," said Hermione lamely.

"And do you not recall me ordering you not to have such, 'conversations' when I saw you last?" Snape's eyes were positively glittering with contempt now and Hermione felt herself growing upset under the hostile gaze.

"No, I remember you abusing your power quite clearly, sir," she told him, "and I remember not saying a word to Malfoy about my weekend very clearly as well. It's not my fault if your Death Eater pals can't keep their mouths shut. Draco's daddy wasted no time telling him all about what happened at the manor."

Snape's gaze seemed to soften minimally as he cursed. "Bloody Malfoy ponce. He never could keep his blasted mouth shut." Then a sigh. "I'll take care of Draco. Avoid him in the future."

"Is that an order," said Hermione stiffly. Snape simply scoffed.

"No, just a bit of sound advice. The boy is more talkative than his father."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Hermione.

"Do," said Snape, his posture relaxing as he leaned back against the door and examined her. Hermione shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze. "Tell me," he said, "Did the rest of your day go smoothly? Did you manage to pacify your dull witted friends as to your whereabouts this past weekend?"

Hermione crossed her arms and shrugged. "I suppose. Dumbledore did most of the work before we returned I think."

Snape nodded.

"Indeed. Speaking of our esteemed Headmaster, he wishes to meet with you on Wednesday evening at half past seven."

"I'll keep that in mind as well," said Hermione.

This time Hermione could have sworn the sound he made was a chuckle. She remembered all at once the rich sound of his laughter as they had sat side by side on the settee in the green room at Malfoy Manor. She blushed.

"Miss Granger, I do not wish for you to fear me," said Snape.

"Just to obey you?"

He shook his head. "No, not even that, though it would be wise for you to do so in class. What I want if for us to respect one another. Here at Hogwarts we must be teacher and student… but we must also be colleagues if we are to successfully spy on the Dark Lord. In such a partnership I think there must be peace and respect. Do you think we can agree to respect each other, Hermione?"

He used her given name and her pulse quickened. The last time he had used it she had been beneath him. The thought made her blush. Had he done that on purpose to fluster her? Was he being honest with her, or was this more of the same manipulation he had used to make her more comfortable before they had been intimate? She hated that she even had to ask those questions about a man she'd given her virginity to not even a full day before. Still, she didn't know Severus Snape, not in the way one should know a lover or a husband or whatever he was to her. He said they would be colleagues, partners… could she do that? Could she treat the man civilly knowing what they had done and would continue to do in private? Knowing the terrible power he held over her?

"I… don't know," she answered honestly, and then cleared her throat.

"I see," said Snape, pushing almost violently off of the door and then grabbing the handle. "Go straight to your common room Miss Granger, we wouldn't want you having any more dangerous conversations in hallways now would we?" And before Hermione had a chance to say anything more, he was gone.


	13. Debriefing

A/N: Hello everyone! It's update day and I hope this chapter is both informative and enjoyable. One thousand thanks to FaceOfPoe who betaed this chapter like a boss! I really appreciate all of your reviews and questions. Just a reminder that this story is already completely plotted (42 chapter!) and nearly half written. Every review I receive makes me want to write more quickly to please you all. :) Also, if you have any specific scenes you would like to see, let me know. I'm not above adding chapters if they fit with the story, or even writing side drabbles if it's a scene I think would be fun to explore further but that doesn't really go with the flow of this story. Have a great day, friends!

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Chapter Thirteen: Debriefing

June 4, 1997

By Wednesday evening, Hermione was well and truly mortified. She couldn't believe how rude she had been to Professor Snape. Of course they could respect one another, what sort of ridiculous logic had been going through her mind when she'd said otherwise? Had she been thinking like the intelligent young woman she was, or an insecure schoolgirl? The answer was evident in the way Snape had ignored her during Defense on Tuesday and Thursday, not even bothering to insult her as he normally might have. She'd have to apologize of course, if they were to have any semblance of a working relationship that wasn't riddled by anger and resentment. He may have distanced himself after what they had done at Malfoy Manor, but she wasn't sure she could blame him for that. After all, it wasn't as if what they had done had been for any reason other than self-preservation. Yes, she had enjoyed herself, and yes she had been under the impression that he had enjoyed himself as well, but she could hardly expect hearts and flowers afterwards, especially knowing that Voldemort had been waiting for them below. No, she should not have taken his cold reaction personally. He had certainly been personable enough since then, a condition she'd never have imagined in her old Potion's Professor before now.

"Miss Granger?" The sound of a voice from behind her made Hermione startle where she sat. When she had arrived at Dumbledore's office it had been unoccupied save for the portraits lining the walls, most of whom seemed to be sleeping. Rather than taking the opportunity to browse through the endless gadgets on the Headmaster's desk, or the countless books lining his shelves, Hermione had seated herself in the cozy arm chair opposite the large, dominating desk at the head of the room.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rising nervously as he swept into the room.

"Please, sit," Dumbledore motioned, taking his own seat behind the desk as Hermione sank gratefully back down into her chair. "Sherbet Lemon, my dear?"

Hermione shook her head at the proffered sweet and Dumbledore shrugged, popping one of the candies into his mouth and returning the jar to the desk as he leaned back in his chair.

"Professor," said Hermione, "Are my parents alright?" Dumbledore folded his hands over his stomach and nodded.

"Yes, they are settled in their new lives, though I am sure it will be only temporary. I think it is probably for the best, however, that we not discuss the specifics."

Hermione's heart sank. Of course he was right. She wouldn't want to endanger them by possessing any information that could lead Voldemort to them should he enter her mind.

"But what of you, Miss Granger? How are you faring?" asked the Headmaster, leaning forward and peering at her over the top of his half moon spectacles.

"I'm…" she didn't know what to say. To her friends she insisted she was fine, but Dumbledore knew the truth of her situation. Surely if she could be honest with anyone, it would be the man who had suggested she take this path in the first place. "I'm scared, Professor. And disappointed."

"Scared of what in particular, Miss Granger?" asked Dumbledore, voice kindly.

"Didn't Professor Snape tell you what happened?" said Hermione. She thought her worries might have been fairly apparent.

"He did, though I would like to hear your perspective."

And so Hermione told him everything. How they'd arrived and waited in the middle of the Death Eater party, how they'd drawn her blood to prove her paternity and how she'd spent the night in the green room, terrified. She told him about Narcissa Malfoy and about the way Voldemort had spoken about Hermione in front of his Death Eaters and about the option he'd given her to either be his prisoner, or be bound to Snape. She stopped there, unable to make herself continue.

"And you chose to be bound?" prompted the Headmaster.

Hermione swallowed and nodded.

"You needn't continue if you are uncomfortable, Miss Granger, Severus told me the rest of what transpired," the old man said. Hermione nodded her head gratefully. "I will only ask you to confirm that what came next was not made worse in any way by Professor Snape. He did not… take undue advantage?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "He was… kind. As kind as he was able to be."

"I am glad," said Dumbledore, "I had thought perhaps it was he who had frightened you."

Hermione looked up, shocked. He thought she was scared of Professor Snape?

"No, I'm not scared of Professor Snape. I'm not particularly pleased with him, but he doesn't frighten me. I think he was the only comforting part of the whole experience actually."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Dumbledore, though he looked somewhat skeptical. "Though if I may ask, what did frighten you?"

"The thought that Voldemort might kill me. Or worse, keep me there with him where I'd be absolutely no use at all," Hermione answered.

"I see," said Dumbledore. "And this bond, between yourself and Severus, it did not frighten you?" Hermione frowned. Frighten her? She'd known Professor Snape since she was a child. He was strict and rude, but hardly as frightening as a mass murderer.

"It worried me, and made me quite upset," said Hermione, "but no, the thought of being magically bonded to Professor Snape never frightened me. After all, he's a member of the Order, isn't he?"

"Indeed he is," said Dumbledore, "And while I regret you were put in this position, I think you are wise to trust him, Miss Granger."

"Besides," continued Hermione, "Such archaic magic can hardly be binding in a legal way. We didn't even sign anything! It's not as if we're married in the traditional sense. And once you figure out how to break the enchantment, we can put it behind us."

The Headmaster's face seemed to fall as Hermione spoke, and by the time she was finished he was practically frowning.

"I'm right, aren't I, Professor?" asked Hermione, who had a sneaking suspicion she wasn't going to like his answer.

"No, Miss Granger, you aren't." answered Dumbledore, looking very serious now. "I'm afraid the rite in which you participated was very much a legal marriage."

"But how can that be?" cried Hermione in dismay, "There wasn't a representative from the ministry or any documents to sign or-"

The Headmaster held up his hand to interrupt her.

"I'm afraid that the understanding of weddings you've gained from your muggle upbringing does not quite apply in the wizarding world, my dear. While muggles must file paperwork to keep track of their contracts with the government, we magical beings need not. Much as the birth of magical children is detected and recorded here at Hogwarts, the Ministry detects magically binding contracts and records them. As unusual as your binding was for the modern era… I'm afraid it is still legally recognized. I am very sorry I did not think of such a possibility before sending you to Voldemort. I had not thought he would be so eager to put your fate in even one of his trusted servants' hands."

"But the Ministry would know if that were true, they'd have said something about a professor marrying a student." said Hermione. Dumbledore shook his head.

"I'm afraid one of Voldemort's supporters must have buried the record. The ceremony in which you were involved would surely have produced one."

"Then we'll break the contract!" Hermione's voice sounded shrill to her own ears now, "I'm sure given a little time you can-"

"Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore's voice was soft now, pitying. "The reason I had not thought of a magical contract such as this is because it fell out of favor centuries ago. I don't think a couple has consented to be bound in the way you have been in my lifetime. It is a lifelong commitment, you see. The contract cannot be broken."

"By anyone other than the person who performed the magic, you mean," said Hermione.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Not even him. Your magic is now intertwined with Severus's. To unbind the two would be to unravel them completely, rendering them inert. Separation would mean the loss of your magic."

Hermione was dumbfounded. She couldn't think of how to respond to Dumbledore's revelation. She was married? Forever? To Severus Snape? She tried briefly to imagine what a life with him might be like and came up blank. He was a virtual stranger though she had known him since childhood. She knew nothing of his interests, his aspirations, or his past. There had to be something she could do, some answer she could find if she looked hard enough.

"Maybe if I do some research. I'm sure there are books I can look through to-"

"I'm afraid such books as the school owns- few though they might be- are missing from our library. I checked for them myself the day after your return."

"Missing?! What do you mean they're-"

A knock at the door echoed through the room, interrupting Hermione as she spoke.

"Enter," called the Headmaster, content, it seemed, to change the subject.

Snape swept into the room like a force of nature.

"Albus," he said, coming to a stop beside Hermione's chair but keeping his gaze on the Headmaster. "I apologize for my tardiness."

"Think nothing of it, Severus. Hermione and I have only just covered the events of your stay at Malfoy Manor. Please, sit," he added, conjuring a sensible looking arm chair and placing beside Hermione's. Snape sat. Hermione watched him as he did so. His hair hung limply around his shoulders as usual, though she remembered the look of it several nights ago, how clean and silken it had felt between her fingers as he'd-

"I think we should be brief here," said Dumbledore, interrupting her train of thought. Hermione blushed despite herself. "Severus, have you anything new for me?"

"No," Snape answered shortly. "He hasn't scheduled another gathering yet, and I am not due to report to him until Sunday."

"And young Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione looked back up at Snape as he answered the Headmaster.

"Still secretive. He will not confide in me, no matter how many times I offer him aid." Hermione noticed the tension in Snape's jaw as he spoke. He was clearly not pleased that Malfoy had been avoiding him. Hermione remembered the conversation Harry had reported to she and Ron after the holidays. Apparently Snape was offering to help Draco: with Dumbledore's approval.

"I think we must be direct with him. Our best course of action might be to offer he and his parents protection. From what you've reported, none of the Malfoys seem content with their current circumstances."

"Headmaster, I am not sure that would be wise. Draco may be unhappy, but I'm not sure he would forsake the Dark Lord in this."

"I think he would," interjected Hermione, remembering the pitying look Malfoy had given her before leaving her in the corridor. He was not content where he was, he was frightened.

She glanced over at Snape who was looking at her through narrowed eyes. "And what would you know if it, Miss Granger?" he snapped.

"Nothing," returned Hermione. "I'm not positive about anything. But when Malfoy cornered me on Monday it wasn't to gloat. He felt sorry for me. He's not in love with Voldemort any more than you are."

"There you have it, Severus," Dumbledore smiled kindly at Hermione as he spoke.

"Oh indeed," said Snape mockingly. "If Miss Granger is such a seasoned spy already that she can discern Mr. Malfoy's intentions, then by all means, heed her advice, Headmaster."

"Come now, Severus, we both know Miss Granger has much to offer us, her position as Mr. Malfoy's peer just one of many advantages. We cannot discount her."

Hermione watched Snape as he stiffened and folded his arms. The long, slender fingers of his hand laid across his upper arm. She flushed as she remembered the way those fingers had teased her, stroking her until she'd come apart for him and-

"Hermione?" her eyes snapped back up to Professor Dumbledore who was peering at her expectantly. She blushed at once, embarrassed by her train of thought and not sure where it had come from. After the way their first encounter ended, she was hardly eager for a repeat performance.

"I'm sorry, Professor?" she said, throat gone dry.

"I only asked whether you had given any thought to the types of information you might provide Voldemort when you meet again," said Dumbledore.

Hermione swallowed. Truthfully, she hadn't. She'd been so preoccupied with the effect this had had on her own life that she hadn't even begun to imagine what she would need to do or say as a spy in order to be effective.

"I haven't," she answered, voice small. Beside her Snape scoffed quietly. Hermione blushed in response.

Dumbledore spoke, "That is quite understandable, my dear. Since we last spoke you have endured much." This time Snape's scoff was plenty loud, causing Dumbledore to send a withering scowl his way before turning back to Hermione. "I think you must stay close to the truth when you give information to Voldemort," he said, "The fewer lies we tell, the more believable our stories. You might, for example, tell him that Harry has been meeting with me in secret, and that when he returns he appears invigorated. You could speculate as to what we do in our meetings. Perhaps I am teaching him Occlumency myself after Professor Snape's failure, or I might be teaching him spells with which he might challenge the Dark Lord. Of course you must tell him whatever you can to mislead and misdirect him, guiding him further and further from our goals while gaining his confidence through small truths."

"A speech will hardly prepare her, Albus," interrupted Snape bitterly, "She'll have to learn the same way I did, through experience. Besides, the girl hasn't failed at a single thing since she got to this school. Are you honestly worried she's going to cock it all up now?"

Hermione wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered by Snape's remark, and she was saved having to make a decision by Dumbledore speaking once again.

"As you say, Severus. Still, I'm sure Miss Granger knows that should she have any questions I am available to her."

"I do, Professor," she answered. "And actually, I was wondering something. Why would Voldemort believe anything I have to say. He knows I'm not loyal to him."

Snape answered in the Headmaster's stead. "As far as the Dark Lord is concerned, I have ordered you not to lie to him. I've prepared a false memory for him to ensure he does not doubt the tidbits you share about Potter."

"Good," said Dumbledore, "Now I think we have only one more thing to discuss. It is my understanding that your bond requires frequent, physical renewal-"

"Merlin's beard, Albus! You don't honestly mean to discuss this!" Snape cried, springing to his feet. Beside him, Hermione felt as if she might melt away from embarrassment. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss the physical requirements of her sham marriage with the Headmaster.

"Severus, be reasonable," said Dumbledore, "we must protect the school while we can, and if anyone were to discover-"

"Do you think I've survived this long as a spy without learning to be discreet, old man?" hissed Snape, clearly affronted.

"And what of Miss Granger, am I to expect that she's learned subterfuge as well as you have?"

"I'm actually fairly good at keeping secrets," Hermione spoke up, drawing the attention of both men. "And I'm very discreet."

Snape looked down at her, eyes glittering. She couldn't quite read the look on his face, though if pressed she supposed she'd call it amusement, or perhaps approval. Whatever it was, it made her stomach flutter pleasantly.

"Very well," sighed Dumbledore. "I will count on you both to keep your relationship private. Miss Granger, the hour is getting late and I am sure you have your studies to attend to. Have you any questions for me before you go?"

Hermione thought for a moment, and a question occurred to her as she did.

"Why am I important to him?" she asked. "I mean, I know he wants me for something, or else he wouldn't have bothered to do what he did to make me… only I can't quite understand what it is about having a child that would have appealed to him. He plans to live forever, doesn't he? What possible use could he have for an heir? Especially one as undesirable as me." There was silence following her question as Dumbledore looked to Snape, who seemed to give her inquiry serious thought. Finally, the younger man spoke.

"You should not make the mistake of thinking yourself undesirable," he said softly, meeting her gaze as he spoke. Hermione's heart began to race at his words, but before she could dwell on them he continued. "You are magically powerful, and very clever, two qualities the Dark Lord covets in his followers. Add to that your position as the daughter of an historic and very wealthy wizarding family, and you become a valuable asset. More than an asset to him though I think. You are a bridge between him and his followers, a link which gives him legitimacy he has only ever been able to take by force before. Pureblood society places blood connections on a sacred level, it's the reason blood traitors are so reviled. To be able to say he is related by blood to not only the now extinct Gaunts, but the Averys as well can only solidify his claim to power. Add to that the usefulness of your blood in certain dark rites which could revive him should he fall once again, and the coup it would be to claim one of Potter's minions as his own… You are a very tempting conquest, Miss Granger, and an object of great worth to the Dark Lord." He fell silent and Hermione felt a strange sense of power at his words, as if his explanation had given her more influence and direction than she had had before. She understood immediately how the Dark Lord would try to sway her to his side. This sense of worth, this acceptance was heady.

"I think you both ought to make your way out now," said Dumbledore soberly. "It's nearing curfew."

Snape broke eye contact with Hermione and turned at once, making his way toward the door without bidding the Headmaster farewell. Hermione rose and followed him.

"Good Evening, Professor," she said to Dumbledore who inclined his head in parting as she followed Snape out of the door and down the stairwell. As he neared the bottom, Hermione called out to him.

"Professor Snape," she said. He stopped before stepping out past the stone gargoyle and into the hallway beyond.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" he said impatiently, not looking directly at her. Hermione gulped and fidgeted for a moment, trying to strike up the courage to say what needed saying. "I haven't got all day, girl. Out with it!" Snape spat.

"I'm sorry!" blurted Hermione, feeling herself blush again and cursing the involuntary reaction. "For what I said on Monday about not knowing whether I could respect you. It was foolish and juvenile of me. I suppose I've just been having trouble accepting everything that's happened to me lately… not that that's an excuse. I know you were only trying to be kind and to make things easier between us now that we're married. God, that sounds so ridiculous to say. 'Married.' like I'm all grown up and in love or something. I just never imagined when I actually married it would be to someone I barely know. I mean I know you're a really wicked grader and that you've got an awful temper, but I don't know you. And I hate that! I hate that I'm married to you not because I hate you, but because I always imagined when I did marry it would be to someone I loved and could spend my evenings arguing about magical and political theory with, and I think if I tried that with you, you'd just take off house points." She was babbling, she knew she was, but Hermione couldn't stop herself. Thankfully, Snape could.

"Miss Granger," he said, exasperated, "contain yourself and kindly come to your point."

"Yes, alright," she said meekly before taking a deep breath and trying again. "All I meant to say was I apologize for being so thoughtless before, and I do think we can respect one another. Or at least I hope we can. And I'll try my best to do so."

Snape finally met her gaze again and Hermione's stomach fluttered oddly once more. She felt a shiver run up her spine and wrapped her arms around herself.

His voice was barely audible when he responded through gritted teeth, and if she hadn't seen his mouth move she might have thought she'd imagined his response.

"Very well," he had said, "Good evening, Hermione." And then he was gone, leaving her standing alone behind the stone gargoyle.


	14. Family Matters

**A/N: Beta appreciation goes to FaceOfPoe. And did you see the lovely new cover art for this story? Freya Ishtar did that. Both of these lovelies are wonderful and deserve all of our thanks. Looking forward to chatting with those of you who review!**

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 **Chapter Fourteen: Family Matters**

 **June 7, 1997**

The next weekend happened to be one of the rare Hogsmeade weekends which followed on the heels of the one before it. Hermione was grateful as she had missed last Saturday's and was in dire need of a distraction. She'd been having a great deal of trouble focusing over the past few days and found her mind wandering as she studied on almost every occasion. It was as if her concentration had been hijacked and her senses had been heightened, making her hyper aware of every itch or tickle on her skin, every twinge in her muscles or headache behind her eyes. So, after a leisurely breakfast with Harry, Ron, and Ginny during which she hadn't actually been able to force herself to eat anything due to the fluttering in her stomach, they all set out for Hogsmeade.

Harry and Ron walked ahead of Hermione and Ginny, chatting amiably about quidditch. Ron seemed to be defending the Chudley Cannons and trying to convince Harry to adopt them as his team.

"Come on Harry, the Cannons could really use the boost it would give them to have 'The Chosen One' support them. I can give you some of my old gear if that's the issue."

Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to tune out the conversation, turning instead to talk with Ginny.

"How are you doing then?" she said.

Ginny smiled and and shrugged. "Oh you know, I'm well enough."

"You've got O.W.L.s coming up haven't you?"

"Er, yeah. I'm actually trying not to think of those though," said Ginny, making a face. Hermione laughed.

"They're not that bad, honestly," she told the younger girl.

"That's easy for you to say. You must've gotten twenty O.W.L.s last year."

Hermione snorted. "Only eleven. And I did get an E."

This time it was Ginny's turn to laugh. "Oh the injustice!" she teased.

Hermione's laughter joined Ginny's, full throated and chiming. Merlin, she'd needed that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd really laughed. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and as her shoulders shook she felt the lines of tension that had been holding her so rigid, loosen, allowing her to breathe a little more freely. Unfortunately, almost as soon as the feeling came, it was gone again, leaving Hermione with a knot in her stomach and the nagging sense that she was forgetting something important.

The four of them reached the Three Broomsticks quickly, the boys splitting off as they entered to order butterbeers and the two young women grabbing the last available table just in the nick of time as another group of students entered the pub. Soon, Harry and Ron made their way back to the table, drinks in hand. The four of them sat and chatted, Quidditch largely the topic of conversation as Ginny joined Harry in bashing the Cannons to tease Ron. Hermione tried to follow the conversation but found herself easily distracted by other discussions going on around her. Just behind them, three fourth years were arguing the merits of Divination ("You can't honestly believe that overgrown insect knows what's going to happen in the next minute, let alone the next week.") and to their left a plump witch and a balding wizard were commenting on the price of drinks ("Sixteen sickles for a bloody firewhisky! They're out of their minds!"). How boring their conversations were, how completely trivial. It was as if the people around her had no idea what was going on in the world. Even Harry and Ron sat there discussing quidditch as if there weren't more important things to think about; as if she weren't married to a Death Eater spy who had made love to her in the Green Room of Malfoy Manor, who had touched her and stroked her until she had come undone beneath him, her whole body surrendering to the delicious-

"Don't you think, Hermione?"

Her eyes snapped up at the sound of Harry's voice, focusing on his face as she blocked out the voices droning around her. Merlin, why couldn't she bloody well pay attention? She felt like she was going mad.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, "I didn't catch that."

"Blimey, Mione, you're slow today," said Ron. Ginny elbowed him in the ribs and he grunted. "Leave off, you!" he cried.

"Try to be a little sensitive, you prat," chided Ginny, "Her parents have only just gone into hiding!"

Hermione thought of her parents somewhat guiltily. It was true, they had gone into hiding only a few days before and were trying to stay out of the grip of an evil Dark Lord, but it wasn't they who had been on her mind.

"I'm sorry," she said, glancing apologetically at her friends. "I'm afraid I'm quite distracted. I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Of _course_ you do," said Ginny, and Hermione thought she sounded rather like Mrs. Weasley as she spoke, patting her friend on the shoulder comfortingly. "Don't let these two make you feel as if you don't have a right to be concerned," she continued, "They're just imbeciles, the both of them,"

"Oi," said Harry, "I'm not the one insulting her."

"I didn't insult her!" Said Ron, sounding defensive.

"Shut it, you two!" Ginny cried, voice shrill. Hermione winced.

"Really, it isn't a big deal," she assured the redhead, "I'm just getting a bit of a headache. I think I'll head over to Tomes and Scrolls to browse. A bit of quiet will do me good." Her three companions didn't put up much of a fuss about her leaving, for which Hermione was grateful, and when she got outside of the pub the fresh, crisp air seemed to clear her head a bit. She didn't know what was wrong with her, fantasizing about Snape like that in the middle of the Three Broomsticks, as if she hadn't been surrounded by students who would have all ostracized her had they known what was on her mind.

She made her way quickly through the village, passing a majority of its establishments on her way to the local bookseller, her favorite shop in Hogsmeade. The first time she'd visited it had been by accident. Trading as it did in books, very few of her classmates tended to find their way there, choosing instead to load up on sweets and jokes at Honeydukes and Zonko's before getting drinks at the Three Broomsticks, or if they were very adventurous, snogging in front of the Shrieking Shack. It had taken getting lost on her second Hogsmeade visit to find out the shop existed, and another free weekend after that before she had been able to spend any amount of time in it.

The bell on the door tinkled as Hermione entered the shop, breathing in deeply and taking in the scent of dust and ink and parchment.

"Welcome," a dry, ancient sounding voice called from somewhere near the back of the shop. Hermione had met the proprietor many times before. He was a very old man, quite short and thin with antique looking spectacles and a head full of tufty white hair, but he knew more about rare books than anyone Hermione had ever met before. He always made a point of bringing out his latest acquisition to show her when she visited, and while some of them were quite a bit darker than she would have liked, they were all fascinating and rare enough to make her long for them. It was a pity she was fiscally responsible enough not to blow her entire year's worth of spending money on a single book, no matter how intriguing the subject matter.

Rather than responding to the old man's welcome, Hermione turned down one of the dusty, book lined aisles near the entrance, following it down until she'd reached the back of the store where she began to browse through the shelved books, picking tomes at random and examining them. The shop had no real organization and so she found herself looking at books on household charms, transfiguration, the wizarding wireless, and garden gnomes, settling at last on an interesting text called "The Wand or the Wizard" which she took with her to a seat near the window of the shop. Perhaps, she thought, a subject as fascinating as wandlore would keep her interest where others had failed. She sat and opened the book, trying her best to focus despite the tense feeling in the pit of her stomach. Merlin, it felt as if her skin were crawling all over, begging to be touched and stilled. An itch somewhere she couldn't quite scratch in polite society. She wondered whether Snape felt it as well or whether she was the only insane one, the only one who had been so affected by the way he'd touched her, the way he'd made her cry out from pleasure and writhe in passion.

A minute had not passed before the bell above the shop door rang again and heavy footsteps sounded against the hardwood floor, drawing her thoughts back to the present. Still, Hermione did not realize they were approaching her until a shadow fell across her lap, blocking her reading light and causing her to squint up at a tall figure now standing between herself and the dusty shop window. Backlit as the person was, she had trouble making out his face.

"So you're the little girl who's caused so much trouble," the man's voice was gruff as he sank into a seat across from her, reclining casually with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, his hands on the arms of his chair. Hermione regarded him in confusion. He was a tall man with blonde hair and sharp features which, while not strictly attractive, were certainly aristocratic. He looked familiar but she couldn't quite place him, though she had a feeling he was not someone with whom she should be alone.

"I don't think I know you," she said, closing her book quickly and moving her hand discreetly towards her pocket and the wand which resided within.

The man leaned back in his chair, his gaze traveling from the top of her head down to her feet and back up again to settle on her face.

"No, I'm sure you don't," he said, sneering now, "Your whore mother saw to that."

Hermione swallowed and made to reach for her wand, stopping only as the man opposite her brandished his, pointing the tip directly at her face and shaking his head.

"Come now, Hermione," he said, "Let us be civil. We are, after all, family." And suddenly, she recognized him. He was the man she had seen cowering at the end of Voldemort's table, one of the men who had dragged her mother to the circle the night Hermione was conceived. Avery. Her mother's brother. Hermione swallowed.

"What do you want?" she asked, voice low. She had been so stupid to come here alone. She hadn't thought, hadn't imagined that any of Voldemort's minions would come after her. How stupid she had been to trust that because he valued her life, none of his followers would dream of hurting her.

"What do I want?" Avery laughed coldly. "I want what is owed me. I want what your bitch mother stole from me!" His voice rang loud throughout the empty shop and Hermione prayed that the little old shopkeeper wouldn't wander towards them. The man in front of her looked wild with hatred and she doubted he would hesitate to curse or kill anyone stupid enough to interrupt whatever plans he had made. And then, just as suddenly as he had begun yelling, he was calm once more, reclining in his seat and eyeing her as he held his wand loosely in his hand, still pointed in her direction.

"Now," he said, "I think we should catch up, the two of us. Tell me about yourself, Hermione, are you as clever as the Dark Lord seems to think you are?" The man-her uncle-eyed her as he waited for a response. The weight of his stare made Hermione's flesh crawl. She swallowed, clenching her fist in the fabric of her jumper, right at the mouth of the pocket which held her wand.

"I think I am," she answered, trying to keep her voice calm and her gaze steadily locked on his. Avery sneered at her response.

"Stuck up too, aren't you?"

"I prefer the term 'confident.'" she answered.

Avery spat onto the floor and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Either way, you're nothing but the spy's whore now, aren't you?"

Hermione made to answer but found herself cut short by the weight of Snape's command. _I must order you not to discuss any of the events which occurred since we left Hogwarts,_ he had said. How utterly inconvenient. Instead of responding, Hermione made a face, trying to convey her displeasure at the man through her expression. It seemed she succeeded as rage flitted across Avery's features. Hermione barely had time to register that her uncle had moved before there was a sudden stinging pain across her face and she was knocked to the side. She tumbled from her chair, clutching her cheek as her head hit the window and she struggled to keep herself from falling to the floor. Eyes stinging, mind reeling, she looked up at the man now towering above her, breathing hard as he stared down his nose at her, wand in hand. The side of her face began to throb as she fought back tears. She had never been hit before, and the reality of it caused both shock and rage to boil within her.

"See here you little slut," spat Avery, "I will not be disrespected by some puffed up little bitch! I am the head of this family, and you will obey me! Now when the Dark Lord next calls you, you will crawl in and you will tell him-" But what Hermione would tell him, she never heard. Instead, there was a loud _CRACK_ and the sound of the storefront window shattering as Avery was lifted up and thrown through it and out into the street.

"I think you should hold your tongue, Avery," said a soft, silken voice from near the doorway. Snape stood there, his wand pointed at the man lying bloodied in the street, his expression unreadable as he advanced toward Hermione. He reached out a hand, pulling her up by the arm and leaning down to inspect her quickly. He brushed her cheek lightly and she winced, a tear escaping from her eye as she wiped her nose with a sleeve and refused to meet the professor's eye.

Snape exhaled softly and pulled her behind him in one fluid motion, placing himself between her and the shattered window as he faced Avery who now stood in the narrow cobbled lane beyond.

"Snape," shouted the Death Eater, "I'll tear you to shreds, you fucking-"

A jet of red light shot from the tip of Snape's wand as he jabbed it viciously forward, hitting Avery in the mouth and causing him to choke as his tongue began to swell and his eyes widened.

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Avery," Snape said, his voice measured as he stepped through the window frame and lowered himself to look the other man in the face. It was clear the blonde could no longer breathe past his grotesquely swollen tongue, purple and stretched to block his mouth completely. Hermione stared on in horror as her professor- her _husband_ \- crouched down calmly beside the suffocating man, snapping his fingers in front of the man's eyes as if to garner his attention. "You've no claim on the girl," he said at last, voice barely loud enough for Hermione to make out. "She belongs to _me_ , and by extension to Him. You're nothing to either of us, and therefore nothing to her. Now leave before you expire here on the street, and wait for the Dark Lord's summons." Another jab of Snape's wand and Avery's tongue was deflating as he gasped, drool and tears coating his face as he glared up defiantly at them before disapparating with a loud crack.

Hermione watched Snape for several seconds, frozen where he had stooped to speak to the man, his back facing the store as his shoulders raised and fell with each breath he took. Finally he stood, turning to face Hermione and the old shop owner who had finally emerged from the back of the store and was staring, panicked at the scene before him.

"Obliviate," said Snape, pointing his wand at the white haired man and watching him slump to the floor. As he worked, Hermione set herself to repairing the shop window and righting the two chairs beside it. She watched the shards of glass fly up and fuse themselves together at her direction, the words "Tomes and Scrolls" painted across the glass in spindly gold lettering.

"Can I help you?" The shopkeeper's voice was confused as it sounded from behind her, and Hermione turned to face him. He looked unsteady on his feet, using Snape's arm to steady himself as he swayed slightly, though whether it was due to his age or the memory charm that had just been performed on him, Hermione could not tell.

"I think I'd like to purchase this one," said Hermione, forcing a smile as she held up the book she had picked out before and ignoring the burning across her cheek. She was sure she'd have an awful bruise and probably a swollen eye thanks to Avery and his lack of self control.

She finished her transaction quickly, aware the whole while that Snape was waiting for her near the exit. As she moved past him and into the street, she felt his hand wrap around her upper arm, not painful, but firm.

"You'll not be rejoining your friends, Hermione," he said as she turned to face him.

"But they'll be looking for me," she said. She could hardly just leave without letting them know. Harry and Ron were already sure she was mad with fear over her parents' attack, they would probably assume she'd drowned herself in the Black Lake if she didn't meet with them again soon.

"Let them look," Snape snapped, and then he was dragging her through Hogsmeade, not caring that every student who saw them probably thought he'd caught her stealing something to warrant such treatment, and towards Hogwarts where she was sure she would not enjoy what came next.


	15. Wife

**A/N: THANK YOU to those of you who have and continue to favorite, follow, and review this story. Special shout out to _Sorrowsown_ for leaving the one hundredth review! Here is a plate of cookies and just the teensiest little prelude to a lemon to celebrate! Beta Love goes to faceofpoe for being a brilliant ginger goddess. **

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**Chapter Fifteen: Wife**

 **June 7, 1997**

The crisp air whipping against her face was soothing as they made their way back to the castle. While her cheek still throbbed where Avery had backhanded her, the sting was at least somewhat lessened. Still, she hated that the man had taken her so unawares with physical violence, and it was perhaps that act which bothered her more than the pain. She'd never been hit before, not like that. She'd been struck by jinxes in the past, but no one had ever raised their hand to her the way her _uncle_ had. She wondered whether her mother had suffered the same sort of violence in her childhood, if that was one of the reasons she had been so intent on leaving her family and the wizarding world behind.

The school grounds were only sparsely populated as she made her way towards the castle, Snape at her side. He'd released his grip on her arm when she'd shown herself capable of keeping pace with him, and they walked now in silence, bypassing a group of first years picnicking near the Whomping Willow before reaching the castle proper. The Entrance Hall was drafty as they made their way through it and down to the dungeons where Snape led Hermione into his office. The fire in the grate was lit with a wave of his wand, as were the sconces lining the walls. He strode to the window overlooking the grounds and drew the drapes closed before turning to face Hermione who stood still in the doorway, watching him move throughout the room with a subtle grace she had rarely noticed before. He walked like a man who was secure in his confidence, never hesitating in his movements, never second guessing himself.

"Come in, Miss Granger, and shut the door behind you."

Hermione swallowed and did as he asked, stepping quickly inside and pulling the door closed as she moved. She threw the lock for good measure.

"Sit." Snape ordered, sinking into his own seat behind his desk and sliding open a drawer to his left from which he withdrew what looked like an overlarge inkwell. "This should help with the swelling." He pulled a stopper from the glass container and slid it towards her as she sat. She inspected the jar before picking it up. It was filled with what looked like a pale yellow ointment. She supposed it was some sort of bruise paste, perhaps with analgesic properties.

"Would you help me?" she asked, looking up at Snape as she spoke. He arched one brow but said nothing, reaching for the salve instead and dipping one long finger into the neck of the bottle. Hermione blushed at the sight, unable to stop herself from remembering where else those clever fingers had been.

He brushed the ointment across her cheek quickly and efficiently. It burned slightly upon contact but soon cooled, leaving her cheek pleasantly numb with neither stinging nor throbbing.

"It worked!" She said. Snape exhaled in response, nostrils flaring.

"Did you doubt that it would?"

Hermione blushed.

"No, I only meant that it stopped hurting… Thank you."

Snape shrugged his shoulders and wiped his fingers on a plain white handkerchief produced from somewhere within his robes.

An awkward silence descended as they sat across from one another, Hermione avoiding Snape's gaze determinedly and Snape watching Hermione with what might have passed for casual interest to anyone who did not know the man. Finally, Hermione spoke.

"Thank you," she said, "For stopping him. I don't know how you got there so quickly, but I very much appreciate your intervening." Snape snorted softly.

"I was only fulfilling my side of the contract, girl."

"The contract?" Hermione echoed.

"The marriage contract," clarified Snape. "You'll remember that you're not the only one bound by it." And then Hermione did indeed remember. His words from a week ago echoed in her mind. _While you are bound to obey, I am bound to protect you. When you are in physical danger, I will feel the same compulsion with which you are inflicted, driving me to protect you from that danger._

"So you felt it, when he hit me?"

He paused before responding, leaning back in his chair and breathing in deeply before nodding.

"Before. I think it must have been when he walked into the shop. I see now why you are so averse to my command. The sensation was…" His voice trailed off, his gaze somewhat unfocused.

"Suffocating," Hermione supplied. Snape's eyes snapped up to meet hers, he looked startled by the sound of her voice.

"Quite," he said, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "I find after further reflection that I may have been… hasty, in compelling your silence on the matter of our visit to the Manor."

Hermione snorted softly, unable to hide her reaction to the most feared professor at Hogwarts admitting to something so common as hastiness. Snape exhaled sharply and his eyes flashed.

"I release you from my previous order," he said, the words spitting from his mouth like crushed glass. Hermione felt a rush of sensation which swept from the tips of her toes up to the top of her head, as if it were lifting a weight she hadn't remembered she was carrying. She sighed in relief as Snape spoke again.

"I _trust_ that you will show discretion despite this freedom."

Offended at the implication that she would be anything but discreet with regards to such a sensitive topic, Hermione glared back at him.

"As if our association is something I want bandied about Hogwarts over breakfast," she said.

"If I recall," responded Snape, his voice low and silken now, his eyes glittering as he watched her, "Our association was not something you objected to on Sunday." Hermione's eyes widened at the implication of what he'd said, her cheeks reddening with every word he spoke. "In fact, I would say you were rather eager to continue our _association,_ if your pleas were anything to judge by."

"You're a bastard," said Hermione, red faced as she tried not to think about exactly how she had begged him, of how delicious his hands had felt on her, how full he had made her feel with his fingers and his cock inside of her.

"But that didn't stop you from enjoying my attentions, did it, wife?"

"Don't call me that."

"Don't call you what?"

"Your wife," whispered Hermione, refusing now to meet his gaze.

"Do you think that not saying the word, or speaking it only in hushed tones will make it less of an apt description?" mocked Snape.

"I think it means something more than just obedience and sex," spat Hermione bitterly.

Snape sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he peered at Hermione.

"Of course it does, you silly girl. It means your life is bound to another's, your souls intertwined so thoroughly that any separation would mean a loss of self. It means the prospect of years spent together, of family shared and personal space invaded. It's bloody inconvenient and in our case, inescapable." Hermione looked up, meeting his gaze steadily as he continued. "We may not have chosen one another, Hermione, but this _is_ a marriage, and you _are_ my wife. To pretend to yourself that your circumstance are otherwise is nothing but a pretty fantasy."

"Perhaps I prefer the fantasy," said Hermione softly, "The one where I'm not barely of age and married to a man who has abhorred me since childhood."

Snape scoffed and leaned forward infinitesimally. "Are you so self important that you think I would have spent my time abhorring you?" The comment stung and Hermione scowled at him, leaning forward as well and pointing her finger directly at his chest.

"Oh you are a complete ass," she cried, just as he caught her hand in his and yanked her forward with one fluid motion. The tops of her thighs hit the edge of his desk as she was pulled toward him, her wild hair swinging forward and around them both as he took her mouth with his. His lips were warm and soft against hers for a moment before he began kissing her in earnest, his lips slanting over hers, his tongue hot as it traced the seal of her lips, coaxing them open so that he could explore her thoroughly.

She moaned into his mouth, but a sound which would have embarrassed her just seconds before made no difference to her now. It felt so right, so good, his arms wrapping around her and dragging her up onto the desk, swinging her legs to wrap around his hips as he pressed firmly against her. Her breasts felt heavy against his chest, her nipples ached to be touched the way he had touched them before, when he'd undressed her and caressed her as if she'd belonged to him. And she did. She knew in that moment that no matter what he wanted from her, she would give it, not because he would order her, but because all she wanted was to please him. She wanted to feel him moving against her, inside of her, coming apart above her as she writhed below, aching and arching as she strained for a sweet, sweet release.

Her back hit the desk as his hands tugged at her jumper, dragging it up and over her head along with the plain grey shirt she wore beneath. Her wand clattered from the inside of her sleeve to the top of the desk. His clever lips moved from her mouth to her neck, kissing and licking as he travelled down, his hands stroking her sides before one came up to settle over her breast. Oh God, she thought she might come from the feel of him there above her, his fingers now plucking at her nipple through the thin cotton of her brassiere. He burned so hot above her, his own robe shucked off now, leaving him in a crisp white button up and black slacks.

"Please," Hermione whimpered, her hands twining in Severus's hair and pulling his mouth to her breasts. "Please," she begged again. More than anything she needed his mouth on her, that wet, clever heat engulfing the tip of her-

Severus jumped back as if burned, leaving Hermione splayed across his desk, breathing heavily with an unfocused gaze. She lay there, confused and needy as her heart raced and her breath came out in quick, shallow gasps.

"Get out!" cried Severus, his voice hoarse as he stumbled backwards to collapse in his seat. He covered his eyes with one hand as if to shield himself from the girl draped half naked in front of him.

"Please!" said Hermione again, finally able to focus on him as she lifted herself up on her elbows. "Oh Severus, please." Even to her own ears she sounded wanton.

"I said leave!" he bellowed again, springing from his seat and whirling around so that all he left her to stare at was the straight line of his back as he planted his hands on the wall and his shoulders sagged as if in defeat. And then he spoke again, more softly in reality, but deafening in Hermione's ear. "Go back to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione. You're not wanted here."

She did not wait to see if he would cross the line and order her this time. Still struggling to breathe normally, her eyes filled with tears as she donned her shirt again, not even pausing to put on her jumper before picking up her wand and running from the room. The tears spilled down her face as she went.

When she woke up later that evening, her first thought was that her husband was a cruel bastard. Her second thought was that she was very sorry he had stopped what they'd been doing in his office. God she felt half insane. How could she be so furious at him and so embarrassed, and yet want so badly to undress him and stroke him and make him want her as badly as she wanted him in that moment. She thought she might die if she didn't have him soon, and the thought shamed her. How perfectly crass of her to be so obsessed with the idea of sex after just one experience with it. She felt out of control, as if the logical mind she had worked so hard to develop over the years was being overrun by some hormone addled twit. And it wasn't that she was ashamed of sex. She may have been a virgin, but she had always expected that one day she would have a healthy sexual relationship marked by pleasure and respect. No, it was the lack of control she felt that made her blush, the feeling that all she really needed was to be naked, moaning as Severus used his tongue to- She shook herself and sat up, opening the drapes of her four poster bed and rising slowly.

Her head was pounding, which after the afternoon she had had was unsurprising. After she'd been ordered out of Severus's office, she'd run back to the common room as she'd been instructed, crying the whole way and narrowly avoiding bowling over a second year who had been trying to climb through the portrait hole as she entered. She hadn't stopped sobbing until she'd fallen asleep in her bed, unable to curb the gnawing, empty sensation of disappointment in the pit of her stomach.

Hermione crossed to the wash basin across from her bed. It was blue porcelain and kept in fresh, clean water by the house elves at all times. She rarely used it, choosing instead to make her way to the communal restroom to wash her face in the mornings and evenings, but judging by the angle of the sun filtering in through the window, she thought dinner was probably finishing up, which meant that the boys would be looking for her shortly if they weren't already.

As it turned out, she was not wrong. A soft knock sounded at the dormitory door just as Hermione finished patting her face dry, noting that a bit of tenderness had returned to her cheek and that the formerly swollen flesh had receded, leaving behind a pale green and blue bruise. It seemed Severus's ointment worked by first numbing and then speeding up the healing process of the affected area. It was natural which would mean less chance of adverse reactions or health risks, but the drawback was that now she'd have to explain away a bruise on her face to her best friends. Lovely.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice sounded worried as the door swung inward and the redhead followed it into the room. She paused near the doorway for a moment before spotting Hermione and letting out a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin you're here. I told the boys you would be, but they just kept going on about Katie Bell and-bloody hell, what happened to your face?!" Hermione cringed at her friend's dismay. She hadn't thought it looked quite _that_ bad. Apparently she had been wrong.

"I slipped," lied Hermione. She was surprised at how easily the lie rolled off of her tongue. "Just as I was leaving the bookshop. I slammed my face against the corner of a chair and had to be brought back straight away to make sure there weren't any fractures. I'm sorry if I made you worry. I was just so bloody clumsy. It was embarrassing, really."

Ginny looked as if she was trying to decide whether or not to believe her friend, and in the end, with no reason for Hermione to lie in evidence, she made a sympathetic face.

"How awful!" she cried, striding across the room and taking Hermione by the arm, inspecting her cheek and wincing before looking away.

"It barely hurts now," said Hermione, forcing a smile and patting Ginny's hand. "It just looks terrible because it's still healing. It will be gone by tomorrow morning. Now, shall we go and reassure the boys I haven't been murdered by Death Eaters?"

The pair made their way to the common room and found both Harry and Ron pacing at the foot of the girl's staircase. As expected, both boys over-reacted completely. Harry especially was convinced that she had been attacked and kept asking whether there had been anyone else around or if maybe she thought her memory had been tampered with. Ron could hardly take his eyes off of the bruise on Hermione's cheek, a guilty look on his own face as if he felt responsible.

"Honestly," she finally cried, cutting off Harry as he began to speculate about Malfoy's role in her injury, "I _fell_. Not everything bad happens because of Death Eaters. Next thing I know the pair of you will be blaming your poor test scores on Crabbe and Goyle!"

"But Hermione-"

"No," she said, voice loud and firm. "You will stop this instant. _I_ am going back to my room to study for Monday, and before I go the both of you will promise me that you won't go looking for trouble once I'm out of sight. That means _no_ accosting Malfoy and NO sneaking out of the common room just because you've got your bloody knickers in a suspicious twist."

"But Mione-"

"RONALD WEASLEY!" If Hermione hadn't known it was her own voice echoing around the common room, she might have thought Ron had received a howler from his mother. Practically cowering before her now, both boys now looked properly chastened. She would have felt guilty if it weren't so important for them to drop the subject, but as it was she knew that if they talked to Malfoy and found out what had actually happened, the whole truth would come spilling out before she could stop it and her world would implode.

"I promise," mumbled Ron, refusing to meet Hermione's gaze as Harry folded his arms stubbornly and gave her a single nod. It would have to do.

"Good," she said, "Now I suggest the two of you go to your room and study as well. Professor McGonagall has promised us a quiz on Monday and if you don't practice, you'll both fail and probably be expelled." With that dire prediction, she dismissed them both, turning her back and climbing back up the girls' staircase, aware that every eye in the common room was on her.

When she reached her room she was grateful to see that none of her dorm mates had returned while she'd been dealing with the boys; then again, Lavender and her ilk tended to spend their evenings in the common room reading tea leaves or flirting with anything that moved, so she was unsurprised at their absence. What did surprise her was a large barn owl fluttering outside of her window and tapping at the glass with its beak. She let it in and, after feeding it a bit of muffin someone had left sitting on the window seat, untied the scroll from its leg.

 _Tonight at midnight, behind the statue of Eldred the Eager near the Potions classroom. The password is Atropa Belladonna. Be discreet._

The note needed no signature; she had been reading that same spindly writing as it tore apart her essays for the last six years. She sighed and poked the parchment with the tip of her wand.

" _Evanesco_ ," she said, vanishing the note and leaning back against the casement. She was so very tired. Tired of lying to her friends and of feeling distracted and out of control. She was tired of wondering how the hell she was supposed to act around a man who was both professor and husband. She was tired of being bright, of being mature, and of being expected to keep it all together despite the way her life had been turned on it's head.

Still, Hermione Granger was not the sort of woman to pity herself, and so rather than wallowing beside the window, she stood, straightened her spine, and sent a response with the waiting barn owl.

 _Yes_ , she wrote, _Try not to be an ass when I get there._


	16. Renewal

_**A/N: A thousand thanks to my dear sweet FaceofPoe who edits and listens to me ramble about my ideas and then helps them become coherent plot points. Please remember as you read this chapter, that this story is rated M. So, you know, there are lemons. And if anything here makes you happy, makes you sad, makes you laugh, or makes you say "oh my gosh, Severus is so hot," please let me know in the review box. 3 OH! And before I forget, please come and play with me on tumblr where I am also LavonnaLlama.**_

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 **Chapter Sixteen: Renewal**

 **June 7, 1997**

Without the use of Harry's invisibility cloak, Hermione was forced to sneak out of her rooms the old fashioned way, a fact made more difficult by the return of her dorm mates, Lavender and Parvati. Hermione, who was pretending to be asleep behind the curtains of her four poster bed, had listened as the two girls chatted while preparing for bed.

"I still don't know what he sees in her," said Lavender, her voice high and petulant. "I mean sure she's smart, but she's hardly attractive."

"She's not completely unfortunate looking though," answered Parvati. Lavender snorted in response.

"Honestly, whose side are you on?"

"Yours of course," said Parvati, her voice dropped low to a whisper, "but she's sleeping just over there in case you've forgotten. What if she hears us?"

Of course they were talking about her, who else could it have been. Obviously Lavender was still sore over what had happened with Ron. Hermione would have laughed out loud if it wouldn't have given her away. Whatever she might have had with or felt for the redhead before… well, none of it was a possibility now. The idea that her roommates were bitter over her friendship with one man when she was married to another was almost farcical.

"She's asleep, I seriously doubt the fact that I think she's an ugly swot is going to register," said Lavender. But it did register, and try as Hermione might to not care what the other girls thought of her, it still stung. She knew logically that she wasn't unattractive, but she also knew she had never been a great beauty. She did not care to spend her mornings as Lavender and Parvati did, smoothing their hair and applying makeup and making sure their uniforms hugged generous curves. Because of this inattention, Hermione had always been considered plain. But she knew now, after seeing herself in the looking glass at Malfoy Manor, that she could be quite beautiful; still, old insecurities died hard.

"You're wicked, Lav," laughed Parvati, and the conversation moved on, encompassing all manner of trivialities until at last the two girls climbed into their own beds and drew the curtains shut around them. By the time Lavender began snoring, it was already a quarter past midnight.

Hermione crept from her bed quietly, already fully dressed in her school uniform and robes, her muggle clothes having been taken for washing by the house elves. She took a moment to inspect herself in front of the full length mirror hanging on the back of their dormitory door. She noted that the bruise on her cheek had already faded away completely. Sighing at the state of her hair, she wished for a moment that she had paid attention to whatever charm Narcissa had used on it a week ago before dismissing the thought as excessively vain. She disillusioned herself then, having to repeat the incantation three times before it took, much to her dismay.

The common room was abandoned save for a seventh year boy who sat by the fire slumped over what looked like an Arithmancy textbook. Had Hermione not been sneaking out for a clandestine meeting with her professor turned husband, she might have woken him. She'd fallen asleep while revising more times than she could count and it was never a comfortable thing to wake up from. She liked to spare her housemates the discomfort where she could. Bypassing her sleeping housemate, Hermione made her way quietly to the portrait hole. It swung open for her easily, and as it did she could hear the Fat Lady snoring loudly on the other side. Grateful for that stroke of luck, Hermione replaced the painting and made her way into the hallway, wincing at the sound her hard soled shoes made against the floor before layering a quick cushioning sound over them which dampened the noise.

She reached the dungeons in record time owing to the complete emptiness of the corridors, but as she neared the Potions classroom her gait began to slow and her heartbeat quickened. An odd mixture of nerves and excitement swelled within her as she spotted the alcove in which the squat statue of Eldred the Eager resided and approached it. She blushed to think that in moments she would be with Severus. Severus, who had swept her away from danger that afternoon, healing her bruised face and kissing her passionately over his desk. Severus, who a week ago had made her feel the most delicious sensations, who had made her pant and arch and- and when had he become Severus to her? She realized suddenly that in her mind he was no longer Snape the professor, but Severus, the man who had kissed her and comforted her when she had been an inch from falling to pieces.

Hermione did not realize that she had reached the statue until it came to life before her eyes. Its downturned face looked up into the seemingly empty air and the eyes scrunched up, straining to see in the blackness. "Who goes there?" it boomed, voice grating like two pieces of stone dragged across one another. Startled from her distracted thoughts, Hermione jumped and looked behind her, checking to see that no one had been alerted to her presence by the noise and come running out to catch her.

"Atropa Belladonna," she said, clearing her throat and speaking in a hushed whisper.

Still glaring, the little stone goblin rolled its shoulders back, tilting its chin up and peering down a particular long nose at where Hermione stood. "Enter," the statue said as if pained to do so, and then it melted away into nothingness, leaving behind an expanse of smooth stone wall which shimmered before producing a tall, narrow door.

She wasn't sure how long she stood in front of the door. She thought about knocking several times before dismissing the idea as unnecessary and stupid. He had, after all, given her the password to this place, usually that meant one was expected to enter without permission. She imagined what might lay beyond the door: his quarters were the most likely scenario, and she imagined they would be a bit like her own dormitory. They'd probably be decorated all in green and silver with snakes as adornment. There would be an armoire and a writing table and a bed, probably a double as he was an adult. And at the thought of his bed her cheeks pinkened, wondering what sorts of things they could do in such a place, wondering whether he had thought of her the way she had thought of him these past few days. Had he pictured her naked? Spread out beneath him where he could touch her in the most intimate of places without hindrance? Had he imagined what she might feel like on top of him, her breasts brushing against his chest as she moved? Hermione had, she'd pictured little else when she had thought of him, and lately even when she had tried not to think of him. It was a state of affairs which had left her equal parts excited, frustrated, and embarrassed of late.

Hermione sighed, her heart racing and an uncomfortable knot in the pit of her stomach as she reached out and opened the door before she could think better of it. It swung easily on its hinges, moving inward and filling the dark alcove with light as it flooded through the doorway. She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her and wincing as her eyes began to adjust to the sudden light. It took several seconds before her eyes were sufficiently accustomed and she could really take in the room before her.

It was nothing like she'd imagined it. She was in what looked like a sitting room, and while the walls were made of stone, nothing else was as she had pictured it. Instead of the garish Slytherin green and silver, the room was decorated in tasteful shades of grey. There was a sofa facing the fireplace and a matching wingback chair beside it, both large and comfortable looking and covered in charcoal grey upholstery. On the floor, a sprawling grey rug with only the barest hint of a pattern covered a hardwood floor she hadn't seen anywhere else in the dungeons but which complemented the stone of the walls perfectly. The wall to her right was lined completely by bookshelves, all so full they were nearly overflowing, but to her right there was only a smooth expanse of glass. The window reflected the flickering light of the fireplace and wall sconces back at her, revealing nothing but a deep swirling blackness beyond. She guessed that during the day the window wall afforded an impressive view of the Black Lake from below, as well as any light which filtered through the water.

"Miss Granger?" His voice came from somewhere straight ahead; Hermione's eyes flickered up to find the source. Her breath caught on an inhale as she saw him. Severus stood in an open doorway, dressed not in the billowing black robes she had expected, but in a pair of black trousers and a white, long sleeved shirt with a row of buttons which were undone down to just past his collar bones. His hair was damp and brushed back as it had been the morning before they were bound- _Married_ , she forced herself to think the word- and his expression was soft, a far cry from the glare with which he usually graced his students. He appeared relaxed here in this well appointed room, as if the cares which he bore outside of its walls did not weigh on him within. He looked quite handsome as well, she thought, blushing as she took in his shapely brows above piercing dark eyes, and his high, angular cheekbones. His nose, she decided, looked more regal than beakish when viewed through the eyes of a woman and not a disgruntled student. And his lips- gods above- his lips which had done such glorious things to her neck and her breasts just a week ago were full and inviting still. She shifted where she stood, the knot in her stomach unfurling into something warm and exciting.

"Miss Granger, reveal yourself at once," he commanded, his eyes seeming to fall right where she stood and narrowing in apparent annoyance.

"Oh," she said, remembering at once that she had never dropped the charm. " _Finite_." The familiar cold sensation of the charm lifting ran from her toes to the top of her head as she melted back into view. "How did you know I was there?"

Severus raised one brow as he entered the sitting room, his feet clad only in thick woolen socks making no sound against the hardwood floor. "I have been performing that bit of magic since before you were born, Miss Granger, I am well aware of its weaknesses. Now," he said as he came to a stop in front of her, "Would you care to explain why you are nearly thirty minutes late to this meeting?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed at the question and the feeling of excitement she had been relishing before was dampened in her ire. "Only if you're willing to explain why you're being an ass when I expressly asked you not to be," she said, resting her hands on her hips as she glared up at him. Her reaction seemed to surprise him, because his eyes widened and his nostrils flared as he exhaled.

"So it is not Miss Granger the Gryffindor Golden Girl who has come to my chambers tonight, but a wife in her stead," he said, looking somewhat thoughtful, "I'll admit your choice of attire confused me."

Hermione looked down at herself, puzzled at his statement before realizing that the uniform she wore would put her quite firmly in the realm of 'student' for the disciplined professor before her.

"I'm sorry," she said at once, "I hadn't thought of that."

"I'm sure you didn't."

"I wore them out of convenience," she continued, "not to make any sort of… statement."

Severus was quiet for a moment, still studying her speculatively, before nodding once and moving past her on the right where he disappeared from view. Only then did Hermione notice that the room extended behind her on either side of the narrow door through which she'd come. The side Severus entered looked like it might have been meant to be a dining room. As it was, a long wooden table dominated the area, topped by several cauldrons and other potioneering tools. It seemed he preferred a potions lab over a private place to eat, and Hermione was not at all surprised by that fact. She watched as Severus approached a large cupboard and reached inside, drawing out a crystal decanter half full of what looked to her like brandy, and two small snifters to match.

"Would you like some?" he asked, voice mild as he led her back toward the sofa and began to pour a glass on the coffee table. Hermione nodded and held out her hand to receive the brown liquid, taking a seat beside him and feeling herself flush once more. She waited to sip until he did, and then set the glass back on the table in front of her. Her heart was racing again, her pulse beating in her ears and her breath quickening as she watched him sip again. She followed the drink to his mouth, watched his lips set themselves around the rim of the glass, and wished his mouth was on her instead. Gods, she was on fire. There was an ache within her she couldn't place, a wildness she couldn't tame, not when he was so near.

"I think it is time to renew the bond." His voice, husky as it was, still startled her, causing her to jump guiltily and squeeze her eyes shut tight. "I find myself… quite easily distracted," he continued, "my magic is less easily directed and…" his voice trailed off, but Hermione could imagine what he might have said next. She wondered whether his thoughts had wandered down the same paths as hers these past few days, whether he had pictured her as she had him, naked, flushed, writhing in pleasure.

"Yes," she said. The single word, barely more than a whisper, was all she could manage.

Severus cleared his throat and stood.

"Very well," he said. "I shall await you in the bed. You may undress here if it would make you more comfortable." Her fists clenched as he began to walk away, her shoulders shaking in dismay before she too sprang to her feet.

"Don't," she cried out, just as he reached the door to his bedchamber. He paused, not turning to face her but reaching out a hand to grasp the door frame as if to steady himself.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" he said, voice low and husky.

"Don't call me that," she snapped in reply.

"What would you prefer?" he asked, voice still measured as he turned to face her, his spine straightening as his strong chin lifted proudly.

"Hermione, dammit," she said, "You can't just tell me to come to your bed and then call me Miss Granger like I'm just your bloody student."

Severus sneered, striding towards her quickly enough that she stumbled back, hitting the couch with the backs of her legs and dropping down onto it. "Aren't you though?" he roared, one hand gripping the armrest of the sofa to her right and the other pressed against the seat back to her left, trapping her there beneath him as he glared down at her. "You come to my rooms dressed in your bloody fucking school skirt and tie, wrapped in your robes with the bloody fucking Hogwarts crest over your breast, and you expect me to see you as anything other than a student? I've taught you for six years! And at every turn I am reminded of my lechery. The clothes you wear, the company you keep, all of it condemns me! And still, _still_ , I cannot keep my thoughts from you, cannot stop myself from imagining you quivering with need beneath me. I am overcome by _need,_ and I can do nothing to satisfy it but take you to my bed and fuck you. I am controlled by this binding as surely as you are, and I am damned for it." His voice broke as he stared down at her, eyes burning with need and self hatred, and for the first time in days her mind broke through the fog of desire that seemed to surround his existence in her head. He was just as tortured as she was, just as compelled by what she now realized was the binding magic he had warned her would require renewal. This trouble she had been having focusing, these fantasies which had distracted her from even the most basic of activities, was the magic of the Sanguinis Copulam bond which united them.

"Severus," she said, voice soft, "You're not a lech, and you're not damned." And with that, she reached up and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she did so. His lips were stone as they met hers, but she pressed against them and they softened, moving to twine with her own. He exhaled with a shudder and Hermione felt one of his arms wrap around her waist, lifting her up so that their chests were flush. She moaned at the sensation and he seemed to groan against her mouth in return, pulling her up to stand and ripping his mouth from her. She whimpered at the the loss of contact, only to be appeased when she realized he was dragging her towards his bedroom door.

She did not have time to notice the fine large bed or the deep blue of the coverlet before he laid her across it and began tugging at her clothes. She helped him eagerly, sitting up as he relieved her of her robes and unbuttoned her shirt, pulling it from her body and unzipping her skirt in record time. She lifted her hips for him as he pulled down the offending garment, pausing to take off her shoes and socks before he returned to loom above her, his arms bracketing her body beneath his.

"There, you see?" he asked, eyes glittering now as her breasts rose and fell which each shuddering breath she took. "This is how I want you to come to me in the future; free of your infernal uniform and wearing as little as possible."

His gaze trailed from her face down the line of her body. She could feel it like wildfire, igniting her skin where it fell. First the column of her neck where her pulse beat erratically, then the swell of her breasts, encased in thin cream cotton which did nothing to hide the pebbling nipple beneath it. She startled as his fingers touched her side and then closed her eyes to better feel as they skated over her ribs and down to her hip bone where they danced before dipping for just a moment beneath the elastic of her knickers. Her breath caught in her throat, but before she could have any further reaction his hand moved, sweeping back up her side in a gentle caress. She opened her eyes and was met by his black stare, pupils wide and wanting as his fingers danced beneath her breasts.

"Please," she managed to whisper, and his hand settled over her left breast as he leaned down to take her mouth with his. His kiss was soft, gentle against her mouth but, pleasant as it was, it did not match the furor of her need. Her hands, formerly still at her sides, sprang to life, reaching up and tugging at the white linen of Severus's dress shirt as her back arched, pressing her breast more firmly into his palm. He groaned at her eagerness, allowing her to pull his shirt away and fling it to the side. Her hands now against bare skin, she dug her fingernails into the flesh of his shoulders, pulling him down towards her and whimpering her desire into his mouth.

He growled deep in his throat and the sound vibrated into her own mouth as his tongue swept over hers and his kiss deepened. Satisfied, Hermione tried her trick again, digging her nails this time into his sides, sliding them between his ribs as she did so. Severus broke their kiss abruptly, snatching at first one hand and then the other and pinning them above her head before she realized what was happening.

"Sheathe your claws, witch," he said, eyes still glittering as he left one hand pinning her wrists and lowered the other back to her breast. "Tell me," he whispered, his mouth laying small kisses against her neck as he spoke, "what is it that you want, Hermione?" And as he said her name he pulled down the cup of her bra, exposing her breast to the cool night air and brushing it with the pad of his thumb. She shivered and cried out in response.

"Oh please," she whimpered, biting her lower lip and he continued to toy with her, alternately stroking and plucking at her nipple as his mouth made its way to her opposite breast.

"Don't move those hands," he ordered before closing his lips over the breast not being tormented by his clever fingers. Hermione moaned audibly at the sensation as he sucked on her nipple through the fabric of her bra. She could not tell how long he spent there at her breast, but by the time he was done she was writhing beneath him, clutching the pillows above her desperately as her hips moved of their own accord.

"Merlin, your breasts are perfection," Severus murmured, "I could kiss them for hours and never tire of it." Hermione opened her eyes and peered down at him for a moment. She was not sure how it was possible, but the sight of him there beneath her now completely bare breasts, his cheek resting on her ribcage as he stared up at her with wanting eyes, aroused her even further.

"More," she whimpered, unable to keep herself from begging.

He began moving again with a chuckle, kissing her every few inches as he worked his way down her body, not stopping until he reached the top of her knickers. He traced the elastic with one finger, making her shiver and break out in goosebumps as he pressed a kiss over the fabric directly on the very top of her cleft. She moaned in response and he hooked a finger over the top of her cream panties and drew them down slowly, watching her as he did so, his eyes never leaving hers as he drew them off of her foot and let them fall onto the bed beside him.

She shivered, and he kissed her again, causing her to arch her hips up and then keen loudly as his tongue traced the seam of her slit. She moaned as he used his mouth and tongue on her, forgetting his directive to keep her hands above her head completely as she twined them in his silken hair. When she felt his fingers on her- _in her_ \- she cried out, sobbing and clamping her thighs against the sides of his face as she came undone at his touch. Her world slowed to a standstill and then exploded in a frenzy of pulsing pleasure which took her breath away and once spent, left her languid as he crawled up to lay above her.

When she came back to herself, he was nibbling at her jaw and she was stroking his cheek. "You come quite beautifully, Hermione," he said as his stiff length brushed the curls in which his face has been buried and she realized he'd removed his trousers. "Shall I make you do it again?"

"Oh God," were the only words she could utter before she felt his cock slide between her sensitive folds and sheathe itself fully within her. Merlin he was gorgeous, she thought, as her legs wrapped around his hips and his lithe, well muscled frame tensed and began to move above her. The sensation was better than she remembered, and as he she felt him inside of her, plunging deep only to withdraw once more, that now familiar pressure began to build. It was not long before she was again lost to pleasure, and as her body spasmed and tightened around him, Severus followed suit, spilling himself inside and collapsing with a groan against her breast.

They lay there for several minutes afterward, breathing in tandem. Severus shifted to the side only enough to burden the bed with his weight rather than the woman beneath him. The two stroked each other idly, Severus's fingers running up and down Hermione's side and hers stroking his arm until they both fell still, lost to sleep in each other's embrace.


	17. Rules and Ruminations

**A/N: Hello, friends! It's Sunday night still, and you are all amazing! I hope your days are swell and you have something lovely and unexpected happen. Also, I'm not sure how many of you are interested in fic recommendations, but if you haven't read Mak5258's _The Master, The Warden, The Headmaster and the Deputy,_ you definitely should. It's so good! I couldn't stop reviewing it. **

**And all hail FaceOfPoe, she who betas with the gods.**

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 **Chapter Seventeen: Rules and Ruminations**

 **June 8, 1997**

She woke to a room suffused with soft green light. She was lying on her side, and the first thing she noticed was that Severus was still asleep. He lay with his back to her, the smooth expanse of his shoulders exposed and marred only by what looked like a rather large burn scar across his right shoulder blade. She wondered what had caused it, whether it had been a potions accident or something more nefarious. Somehow, the idea of waking him to ask did not seem wise. She sighed and rolled onto her back, stretching slowly and settling in to inspect the room.

Sometime in the night Severus had pulled the duvet over the both of them. It was soft to the touch and a lovely deep shade of blue she would never have expected him to choose for himself, but which somehow fit him quite perfectly. The bed itself was quite large, king sized if she had to guess, and laying atop an intricately carved frame with geometric patterns covering the smooth mahogany headboard. The rest of the room was lovely as well. More bookshelves sat full against the wall directly in front of her and to her left stood an armoire beside a door she guessed led to a lavatory. The wall of glass in the sitting room seemed to extend into the bedroom as well, taking up the entire wall to her right, only a small writing desk and a chair blocking her view of the lake. She watched for a while as the sun rose and the water grew clearer, greener before her gaze. It was a lovely sight and it did not match the cold image she had of the dungeons from her time spent in the Potions classroom.

"Good morning." His voice was husky with sleep as she felt him shift in the bed beside her and slip one arm around her bare waist beneath the coverlet.

"Morning," she answered, turning her face toward his. He looked completely relaxed this early in the day, no hint of a frown on his face or deep vertical slash between his eyebrows. He looked younger than she'd ever seen him before, disheveled and handsome with his hair soft and brushed away from his face haphazardly.

"You should probably return to Gryffindor Tower," he said, and where she once might have assumed a rejection, Hermione thought she understood now that he was merely being practical.

"It's Sunday morning. I guarantee you neither Parvati nor Lavender will be awake before noon. We have time to talk, at least."

Severus raised a brow as his lips twitched in amusement. "Talk?" he echoed, "What a lucky man I am, to have snared a wife who prefers talking in bed to any other activity."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat up, covering her breasts with the duvet and leaning against the headboard. She was surprised at how unembarrassed she felt by her nakedness, how even now, after the demands of their bond had been satisfied, she felt a thrill at the way his eyes followed her movements, lingering for a moment on her breasts before flickering up to meet her gaze.

"And what is it you wish to discuss this early on a Sunday morning?" he asked.

"Well, first of all, I'd like to know why you haven't brought up the subject of birth control in the week since we started having relations." Her question was pointed and a touch accusatory. While she herself had not been worried about the topic, she had expected that Severus Snape might be. He did not seem like the kind of man who would easily forget something so important.

Severus raised a brow as he propped his head up with his elbow.

"Relations?"

"Yes," said Hermione stiffly. "Aren't you the least bit concerned our actions might have unintended consequences?"

Severus's eyes glittered as he responded.

"Not in the least."

"Not in the- Are you seriously telling me you don't _care_ if I end up pregnant?"

"No. I'm saying that I checked your medical records the morning after we returned to Hogwarts and I know that the potion Madame Pomfrey gave you at the beginning of the school year will be in your system until September. So unless you've been drinking fertility potions in your spare time, I don't think we have anything to worry about." His expression was self-satisfied and smug, and Hermione itched to wipe it from his face.

"Those records are private," she said, scowling.

"Yes well, I am staff, and I was hardly going to give you a retroactive contraceptive potion without checking to make sure you wouldn't have any adverse reactions." He paused for a moment and then spoke again, watching her as he did so. "Why did you take a year long potion anyway?" he asked. "You could hardly have thought it would be necessary when your two male companions can barely find their seats, let alone their own-"

"No! God no. It was just practical. When I went in at the beginning of the year she offered and I accepted. I mean there weren't really any cons so why not?"

"I see."

An awkward silence descended then and Hermione fidgeted for a while before remembering that contraception hadn't been the only thing she'd wanted to discuss.

"I think we ought to establish some ground rules," she said at last, pushing their previous conversation as far out of her mind as was possible. Severus's eyes narrowed at this.

"Rules?" he said, sounding suspicious.

"Yes," nodded Hermione. "Rules. I think between the two of us we could do with a few of them. They'll help things to run more smoothly."

"I thought things went quite smoothly last night," teased Severus, and Hermione blushed in response.

"I don't mean rules for _that_ ," she said, looking down at her hands which were folded neatly across her lap. "I meant rules for us. For our... marriage. For the time we spend together. I don't want to argue with you anymore."

Severus did not respond for nearly a full minute, choosing instead to watch her fidget under his gaze as he seemed to deliberate on her request. Finally he spoke. "Fine," he said. "You may proceed." He sat up then, the blanket draping across his lap in a distracting manner as he leaned against the headboard beside her.

"Alright," said Hermione, trying not to stare at his lap and looking instead out the window at the depths of the Black Lake. She could see the giant squid swimming lazily in the distance and wondered how close it came to the window.

"Did you actually have any ideas for these 'ground rules'?" asked Severus from beside her. He sounded impatient now. Hermione looked back at him and narrowed her eyes.

"I do. Rule number one: don't be an ass," she said. Severus scowled now, crossing his arms and stiffening.

"I hardly think that will be a problem." His voice was acid now. Hermione raised a brow.

"Really? And you don't think your behavior after the last time we were together was the least bit boorish?"

Severus did not respond at first, his face turning to stone as he swung his legs from the bed, drawing a sheet with him and twining it around his waist. He sat there for so long that Hermione began to wonder whether she'd truly angered him with her comments. She was about to speak again when he broke the silence. "I regret being so abrupt," he said, voice so low she was almost unsure of what he'd said. "My only excuse is that I find it… difficult, to see you as a woman at times."

Hermione scooted towards him, laying a hand hesitantly on his shoulder, and seeing that he did not move away, laid her cheek against his opposite shoulder blade.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I know it can't be easy for you. It's not as if either of us had a real choice about this. I'm sure you had other plans for your life." Severus snorted at this.

"Hardly," he said, but before Hermione could ask him to elaborate, he was standing, crossing to the armoire without a stitch of clothing on, and opening its doors. "I think though, that it would be wise for me to institute a rule of my own," he said, pulling out a pair of black trousers nearly identical to the ones now discarded on the floor below her. Hermione blushed and tried to look away from his toned body.

"And what's that?" she asked. When she looked back up he was zipping his trousers and turning to face her.

"No more fucking uniform." Hermione's eyes widened at his blunt language and she nodded, cheeks still red from enjoying his naked form.

"Yes. I'll make sure not to wear it when I know we'll be… intimate," she promised.

Severus's expression softened at her words and he crossed back to sit beside her. "What else did you have in mind?" he probed as Hermione moved closer, careful to keep the blanket wrapped around her. She thought for a moment before answering, thought about this man beside her who had confessed such awful feelings of self loathing the night before, of how much he had sacrificed for her since he'd found her reeling that night in the library.

"No more hating yourself for things you can't control," she whispered. "You shouldn't be made to feel like a lech for being attracted to me, not when it's all because of some stupid bond anyway." She looked up after he didn't respond, noticing how still he'd gone. She wondered for a moment whether he had heard her before he turned his face toward hers, eyes burning.

"Do you think so little of yourself that you assume a man could not find you attractive on your own merit?" he said, his voice coming out hoarse. "Hermione I do not want you just because of some magical binding. I want you because you are intelligent and fierce and lovely. I desire you because you are bold enough to challenge the one man who is feared above all others. I crave you because your breasts are full and shapely and your thighs are cream, and it certainly wasn't the the bond that made them so. The magic between us only magnifies the thoughts which have rioted within me since I took you to Wiltshire."

By the time he finished speaking Hermione was blushing once more, unable to break their gaze as he stared at her. She thought he might kiss her and her heart fluttered at the thought, but before she could even lean forward he was standing again and heading towards the bedroom door. She panicked, standing with him, not noticing as the duvet slipped down her front, exposing her breasts as she spoke.

"I like you too," she said without poetry or artifice. Severus paused in the doorway as she continued. "I like the way you push me to be better and the way you kiss me. I like the way you do what is necessary and still try your damndest to protect everyone around you. I like you, Severus. And this morning we're free of the compulsion and I still want you to kiss me."

It took him only a few moments to cross back to where she stood and give her what she wanted. His arm wrapped around her waist, pressing her close as his lips descended on hers, hot and full. He stole her breath and swept the inside of her mouth with his tongue, mimicking the motions he had made within her hours before. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed her, running her fingers through his hair as they allowed the same passion she had felt in the night to bloom once again.

He broke their kiss too soon for her taste, carefully disentangling her from him and stepping back.

"You should get dressed," he said, all traces of passion gone, his face unreadable. "It's almost five thirty, and you'll need to be back in your common room before anyone else in your house wakes."

Hermione nodded and watched as he retreated through the door and into the sitting room. She dressed quickly, pulling on her school uniform and robes and realizing as she did that it meant their personal encounter was over. Severus would not, _could not_ allow himself to desire her when she was dressed as his student, a sentiment she rather appreciated as it meant he was indeed an honorable man.

When she entered the sitting room, wand in hand, Severus was sitting in the alcove she had not had a chance to inspect the night before. It was a small kitchen with a table and two chairs. A kettle sat atop the stove, a flame lit beneath it and at the table Severus was reading what looked like the _Daily Prophet_.

"Should I go now?" she asked.

He looked up from the paper and shook his head. "In a moment," he said, motioning for her to sit across from him. He folded the Prophet as she did so, setting it on the table between them. "I think in addition to your rules-"

"Our rules," Hermione corrected.

"As you say. In addition to _our_ rules, we should agree upon a schedule for… renewing the bond."

Hermione arched a brow in question.

"I find," continued Severus, "that as much as I enjoyed our activities last night, I very much disliked the effects of leaving the renewal too long." Hermione made a face and nodded.

"I couldn't focus," she said, "It was like everything reminded me of you and all I wanted was to-well, all I wanted was to be with you." On the stove, the kettle began to whistle. Severus stood and pulled two cups from a cabinet overhead, speaking as he prepared the tea.

"I felt similarly. I have seldom been so undisciplined. Magic I have done a thousand times before became difficult for me to execute. I spoiled a potion for Merlin's sake, " he said as he turned and set a cup of steaming tea in front of Hermione before taking his seat again. He stirred the liquid twice and then let it be, turning his face back to hers. "I think twice weekly ought to be sufficient. Perhaps every third day."

Hermione nodded her agreement, refusing to meet his gaze and she lifted her own cup to her mouth and savored the aroma of the dark breakfast tea before sipping slowly.

"Are you embarrassed by our discussion?" He sounded amused.

"No," snapped Hermione, and she realized at once how misplaced her annoyance was. "No," she said again, more softly, "I'm not embarrassed."

"Good," said Severus, and he leaned forward across the table, catching her eyes and giving her a small, sardonic smile. "This is our happily ever after, after all. It's the rest of our lives," his gaze grew more serious, "And I would hate for you to be ashamed of finding some measure of pleasure in it."

They sipped their tea in silence after that, and when it was finished Severus stood to walk her to the door. "I almost forgot," he said as he stepped into the potions lab, reaching into the same cupboard as before and grabbing something small which he brought back to the door and handed her. "Wear this," he said, pressing an antique looking silver locket into her hand. "I took a page out of your book and put a protean charm on it. It will grow hot when there is a message inside."

Hermione took a moment to inspect the locket, noting the intricate engraving on the front of the large oval, it looked victorian and quite lovely, though it was not the design which made her gasp aloud.

"Severus! This is goblin made!"

He looked uncomfortable at her exclamation and shrugged. "It is an heirloom," he said by way of dismissal, "Something my mother managed to keep when her family disowned her." Hermione felt a twinge of curiosity but dampened it as she spoke..

"I can't possibly accept something of such value," she said, holding the locket out to him. She thought she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes before his expression went carefully blank and he stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back.

"It is of little value to me," he said, "Though if you wish you may consider it a bridal gift. Such things are customary, I think."

Hermione swallowed and looked back down at the locket in her hand. The chain was long and just as finely made as the pendant it carried. Not only was it probably worth a small fortune, but it had belonged to his mother and was sure to have sentimental value attached to it; and it seemed Severus wanted her to have it.

"Thank you," she said, and dropped the chain over her neck. She tucked the locket beneath her shirt and could feel the cool goblin silver warm quickly between her breasts. "I'll treasure it."

Severus merely looked uncomfortable and then reached to open the door for her.

"You should expect a letter from the Dark Lord today," he said, changing the subject abruptly. Hermione's heart plummeted into her stomach at the mention of Voldemort. "I wrote to him yesterday about your encounter with Avery. He will want your account, I think."

She cleared her throat, feeling quite unwell now at the thought of corresponding with the dark wizard: with her father. "I'll keep an eye out," she said, shaking her head to clear it and forcing a smile as she reached up on her toes and dropped a quick kiss on her husband's cheek. His morning stubble was rough against her lips and she wondered what he would look like if he ever let it grow. "Have a good day, Severus," she said, and left him alone in the doorway, not noticing the look of surprise on his face at such a familiar gesture, or the smile which followed as he watched her disillusion herself and make her way toward Gryffindor Tower.

o-o-o-o

The walk back to the seventh floor was largely uneventful. Hermione passed unseen beside Filch who was sweeping out the entrance hall and then narrowly avoided turning down a corridor Peeves was haunting when she noticed him defacing the portrait of a very disgruntled centaur. Beyond that, that castle was quiet. Most students were still asleep in their beds and those who weren't were certainly still in their common rooms, waiting for breakfast at seven. It wasn't until she passed the corridor off of which she knew the Headmaster's office to be located that she paused, catching a movement out of the corner of her eye and taking a step toward it instinctively, her hand now grasping her wand within the pocket of her school robes.

Her grip slackened when she realized the motion she had detected was just the old stone gargoyle which guarded the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office. In all likelihood, she would see a professor descending from some early morning meeting within a few seconds, or perhaps an Order member come to report some bit of news to their leader. But that was not what she saw. Instead of the adult she had imagined, a pale, drawn looking boy with white blonde hair and a permanent sneer on his face stepped out from behind the stone gargoyle. Hermione stepped back in surprise, pulling out her wand and thanking God that she was disillusioned.

What was Malfoy doing in the Headmaster's office at this hour? She watched as he approached the entrance of the hallway, walking past her without any sign that he knew she was there, standing with her back pressed to the wall as she surveyed him. He looked sick, as if he'd recently been ill or had perhaps received bad news. She remembered the conversation she'd been privy to in the Headmaster's office. _Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater,_ Professor Dumbledore had said. Hermione herself knew it to be true after he had confronted her about her visit to Malfoy Manor. She also knew Dumbledore had been planning to offer the young man an out; the Order's protection and safe passage for his parents in exchange for supplying any information he might have and going into hiding for the remainder of the war . She hoped his face full of worries and fear meant that he had taken the Headmaster up on his offer; not only would it mean three less Death Eaters to worry about, but Severus seemed to care for Draco, and she thought seeing the young man safe would make him happy.

She walked the rest of the way to Gryffindor Tower, deep in though, and upon reaching the Fat Lady spoke the password in a low voice. The Portrait, still half asleep, swung forward without a fuss, admitting her to the warm common room within. Hermione disillusioned herself and made her way up to her room. Lavender and Parvati were still asleep as she had known they would be. Still, it was an impressive feat as there was a very disgruntled looking Eagle Owl currently making a racket at the window. Hermione let the thing in as quickly as possible, shushing it as it hooted and ruffled its feathers as if offended by having been made to wait.

"Sorry," said Hermione, untying the scroll and grabbing one of the owl treats she kept in her robe pocket for the owl who brought her Daily Prophet in the mornings. She held it up for the unhappy bird beside her, who snapped the treat from between her fingers and took flight out the window. It seemed whoever had sent the missive didn't require a response.

Hermione swallowed and unrolled the letter, noting the Malfoy crest embossed at the top of the parchment and the lingering scent of perfume which clung to it.

 _Dearest Hermione,_

 _We hope this missive finds you well. We would value your company the following Friday evening at our home in Wiltshire for a small gathering of friends. Your uncle, who I am told you had the pleasure of meeting, will be in attendance, as will your father._

 _We look forward to your company._

 _Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy_

 _Post Script: I nearly forgot to mention that attire for the evening is formal. Yours, Narcissa._

Hermione sighed and folded the letter into a small square, vanishing it with her wand and sitting down on the window seat to look over the school grounds. She could see the Black Lake from where she sat and remembered the way it had looked from Severus's bed that morning; she thought he had the better view. She could not keep from smiling at that despite the letter she'd just received. Though it had been penned by Narcissa Malfoy, Hermione had no doubts as to who the message was really from.

Lord Voldemort, it seemed, had summoned her. She let her eyes flutter shut, refusing to think any more about it. She would do what she had to do, there was no use dithering over it now. Slowly, carefully, Hermione began to empty her mind, letting thoughts go as they occurred to her until all she was left with was a smooth black lake, no sound, no distractions, just a gently rippling mirror which lulled her to sleep, her cheek pressed to the cold glass of the window.


	18. Prince

**A/N: I adore you all! Thank you for your lovely reviews and for following along with this story. This chapter is NSFW.**

 **Beta Love: FaceofPoe**

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 **Chapter Eighteen: Prince**

 **June 13, 1997**

Harry Potter could be a bone headed idiot. Hermione huffed as she replayed her earlier conversation with the bespectacled git over in her head.

" _Listen, Hermione, I can tell it's not a girl. I can just tell."_

Sexist ass. And then he'd had the audacity to tell her he thought the Half-Blood Prince couldn't be a woman because of their handwriting, as if he were an expert in graphology and had any sort of authority to make that statement. No, the truth was Harry Potter still didn't think a girl could be clever enough to perform so well in Potions, despite having kept all his bloody grades up for the last six years because _she_ was there to edit his essays, prod him into practicing his wand work, and prepare him for exams: the ungrateful, empty-headed-

Her thoughts were cut short when the gentle weight of the locket between her breasts began to grow warm against her skin. Hermione put down the book she had been holding and pulled the locket out, opening it with care. The words etched into the silver there had changed since the last time she looked, and they glowed just enough to make them easy to read.

 _One Hour._

Hermione checked her watch for the time and realized as she did that it was quite late. Curfew would fall in just half an hour, and prefects would be starting their rounds soon after. She was glad it wasn't her night to check the halls for stragglers, it would make sneaking back to Severus's rooms much easier. She blushed as she remembered the last time she'd been in his quarters, and a liquid heat pooled low in her belly. Merlin, it had been nearly a week since she'd been there, a week filled with exams and research which had kept her fully occupied, and she was beginning to feel the effects again. It wasn't that they hadn't planned to meet again before now, but each night something had come up. The first evening he'd had to supervise detentions for a pair of Gryffindor third years who had attacked one of the Slytherin Quidditch players, and last night, Hermione had been forced to send her regrets when a second year girl had fallen ill just before midnight and required an escort to the hospital wing and a shoulder to cry on after she'd been fed a series of disgusting tonics. All of that meant that this evening they would have to be quick. Narcissa had told Severus to be there by eleven and if they were meeting in his rooms at nine thirty it would give them little time to actually renew the bond considering she'd still have to get ready for the formal night Lord Voldemort had requested.

Settling back into her seat, Hermione was for once grateful that she hadn't been able to step foot in the library for nearly a month. It meant that she would be able to sneak from the abandoned classroom she'd taken to studying in down to the dungeons without having to get past anyone loitering in the common room. Besides, since she'd discovered she could summon books from the library, she had enjoyed the solitude of studying where no one was whispering or practicing spells under their breath. Of course, she had to be very specific about which books she wished to summon, but aside from the unfortunate occasion on which some thirty odd books had come hurtling through the halls and towards her all at once, that had not been an issue. This evening for instance, she had been able to summon four books, all dealing with potions achievements at the school in the years 1940-1980. She'd been poring over them for the last hour looking for some mention of an Eileen Prince, but to no avail. Never one to give up on a research question though, Hermione was determined to keep looking, which she did for the next 50 minutes until she was forced to pack up and leave or else risk being late to meet with Severus.

This time when she gave the stone goblin the password it said nothing, disappearing at once instead and revealing the doorway in the alcove wall. Severus's rooms were warm when she entered, the glow from the fireplace adding to the heat coming from the potions lab to her right. She caught sight of him and made a small noise of surprise when she realized he was not dressed in robes or slacks, but in a white t-shirt and black cotton lounge pants which seemed to be in deference to the heat.

Severus looked up from the cauldron he was working at and caught sight of her by the door. His face instantly soured.

"I see you've already forgotten our rules," he said. Hermione panicked for a moment before realizing she still wore her school uniform.

"I'm sorry," she said at once, feeling mortified at her own stupidity, "I forgot to change. I was studying outside of the common room when I got your message. I have my muggle clothes here in my bag. I can put them on if you'll let me use your room."

"That's not necessary," Severus dismissed, turning back to the cauldron. "I'll be done here in another minute. Just take them off so we can do what is necessary and get on with our evening."

"Excuse me?" Hermione's voice was shrill as she spoke, "'Do what is necessary and get on with our evening?' You expect to just… just be intimate with me and pretend like it's some awful chore?"

Severus gave the bubbling liquid in the cauldron one more counter-clockwise stir and then withdrew the stirring rod, setting it on the tabletop and putting out the flame beneath the potion with a wave of his hand. "Should I have bought you chocolates, Hermione?" he asked, his tone snide. "Spouted a sonnet while propositioning you and conjured flowers for your amusement? I was not aware this was some great romance between us which necessitated seduction. _Do_ forgive me for not pandering to your childish need for validation."

Hermione's face was hot with anger and she fought very hard not to rush over and smack him across the face as she'd done to Malfoy years ago.

"I'm not looking for validation, you git," she said instead, teeth gritted, "But I'm not a whore, and I won't be treated like one. You can bloody well have a conversation with me before we 'do what is necessary.'"

"And what should we discuss, my bride?" spat Severus bitterly, "Your classes? I have it on very good authority that you barely met acceptable standards in your Defense class yesterday morning."

"Severus-"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione stiffened. "Don't call me that."

"What would you prefer? Miss Riddle, perhaps?"

She froze, unable to take her eyes off of Severus. This was not the man she had left on Sunday morning. Here stood an altogether different sort of person.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, her face going carefully blank, her voice mild. "I was unaware we were already in character for the evening."

"What are you blathering about?" demanded Severus. Hermione folded her hands behind her back and straightened her spine.

"I didn't realize I would find a Death Eater when I came into your rooms this evening," she clarified, her eyes cold now. "It was my mistake."

Severus's eyes widened and his expression grew thunderous as he slammed a palm down on the table in front of him and swore aloud.

"Dammit, Hermione!"

"Oh are we using first names again? Are you sure your master would approve?"

He seemed to deflate before her as he slouched forward, his palms holding him upright and his face dropping to face the table as his shoulders sank. Hermione watched him, unwilling to be the one who broke the uncomfortable silence between them. Finally, he spoke.

"You are a witch of remarkable obstinance," he said, looking up and meeting her gaze. Hermione thought she saw a softness there which had been missing before.

"Some would call that a compliment," Hermione shrugged.

"I assure you, it was not meant as one," he said, smiling wryly. And then, "Come, sit for a moment." He came around the table, leading her to the sofa in front of the fire where he collapsed onto a cushion. Hermione sat stiffly beside him, unsure of how to handle his sudden change of mood.

"You wished to speak?" Severus was leaning back in his seat, body angled to face hers, his arms draped over the back and arm of the couch.

"How do you do that?" asked Hermione, not really giving her question much thought before it sprang from her lips.

"Do what?"

"Go between characters like you're flipping a switch."

Severus sighed and tilted his head back, exposing the long column of his neck. He looked at the ceiling as he seemed to ponder her question. "It is second nature by now. I had not even realized I was prepared to meet the Dark Lord until you pointed it out," he admitted and looked back down at her. "One day soon I think you will know the feeling."

"I hope not," said Hermione vehemently. Severus merely shrugged his shoulders and continued to watch her, his head tilted slightly to the side, eyes narrowed slightly. It made her uncomfortable and she shifted on the sofa, straightening her spine and trying desperately to think of something to change the subject with. Consequently, she said the first thing that came to mind.

"You don't know anyone named Eileen Prince, do you?" she asked.

Severus raised both brows in surprise and then narrowed his eyes, drawing them down into swooping angles. "Where did you hear that name?" he demanded, leaning forward, looking, if possible, more unhappy than he had when she had come into the room.

"Studying," said Hermione vaguely, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Do not lie to me, Hermione," hissed Severus and she blushed at having been caught out so easily. "Tell me where you heard about Eileen Prince!"

"An old newspaper clipping," said Hermione, "She was captain of the Gobstones team."

Severus's nostrils flared. "I am well aware."

"You knew her?" said Hermione, surprised.

"I should think so," he answered, "Tell me, did your finding this clipping have anything to do with Mr. Potter's somehow stellar performance in Potions this year?" Hermione blushed, unable to meet his gaze and Severus scoffed. "I know about the book, Hermione," he said, sitting up straight now and breaking off his study of the young woman before him. "You needn't continue to keep that particular secret for the thieving brat."

"Harry isn't a thief!" argued Hermione.

"No? Then tell me, how did he come to be in possession of a book I am well aware was housed in a potions cupboard belonging to the school?"

"Professor Slughorn gave it to him!"

"It wasn't Slughorn's to give!" shouted Severus, and Hermione fell silent, face red as she crossed her arms and refused to look at the man beside her. Silence reigned for a full minute before he spoke again. "Eileen Prince was my mother," he said softly. Hermione looked up in shock only to see him with a hand at his forehead and his eyes closed.

"I had no idea," said Hermione, voice small.

"No, I wouldn't have expected you to. She was not a popular student, nor was she from a particularly well-to-do house. The Princes were purebloods, but not well looked upon. They certainly weren't a part of the sacred twenty-eight. "

"She was a pureblood?" asked Hermione?

"Yes," said Severus. "Though she married a muggle. She didn't really have a choice about that."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, confused. She had thought most pureblood families deterred their children from marrying muggles, not encouraged them. Severus opened his eyes and looked at her pointedly.

"She was pregnant," he said blandly, "With me."

"Oh!" said Hermione, suddenly embarrassed.

"Quite," said Severus. The tension in his shoulders and on his face seemed to dissipate as he took a breath and leaned back against the corner of the sofa. "She was disowned at once and left with little recourse but to marry the muggle who had fathered her child."

"Were they happy?" Hermione wasn't sure what possessed her to ask the question, but it was out before she could think better of it. Severus only scoffed again.

"No, Miss Granger, Tobias Snape was a drunk and an abuser. He cared little for the family he had been saddled with, and even less for the magical world which was then revealed to him."

"Don't call me that" said Hermione abruptly. Severus arched a brow.

"I reveal my abysmal childhood to you and that is all you can think to say?" he asked, sounding amused. "I think the Sorting Hat was right to keep you out of Hufflepuff."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If I pitied you, you would only scold me," she said, "And I have asked you not to call me Miss Granger several times already."

"So you have," said Severus, eyes glittering now. The feeling of discomfort Hermione had felt before all but dissipated and was instead replaced by a hot desire at the look in his eyes. "Shall I call you Madame Snape, then?" he continued, his voice silken and husky. It sent a thrill down her spine. "You cut down my last attempt, but now I find I like the sound of it very much," he continued, watching her shift beneath his mercurial gaze.

"Yes," said Hermione, not sure she could make any more comprehensible sound because he was leaning towards her, those black eyes locked on hers until they both fluttered shut and his lips crashed against hers. It would never get old, she thought. His lips were velvet and brandy and delicious sin and she would kiss them until she expired for lack of breath. But then, as his arm twined around her waist, pressing her breasts against his chest, a thought occurred to her and she broke the kiss, a look of shock on her face.

"But that means _you're_ the Half-Blood Prince!" she cried.

"Brightest witch of her age indeed," he mocked, and then his lips were on hers once more, not bothering with light, closed mouth kisses at all, but devouring her with an eagerness she would never have expected from the professor she had known in her old life, the life where she had been muggleborn Hermione Granger, more worried about spellwork and exams than she had been about being murdered by her biological father.

One of his practiced hands trailed along her side, causing Hermione to whimper into his mouth as his finger brushed the underside of her breast.

"Circe," Severus swore as he broke their kiss, drawing in several deep breaths as he pressed his forehead to hers and grimaced as if he were in pain. "I want you so badly it's difficult to breathe," he said, voice hoarse, "and try as I might I cannot believe I am not damned for it."

"I feel it too," whispered Hermione, and she did. She wanted his lips and hands on her more than she wanted almost anything else in the world right then. It was a hungry neediness that consumed her, that made her into a whimpering, wanton mess in his arms; and whether it was a product of the bond between them or the natural desire of a woman for a man she could not tell, nor did she care. All she wanted was to be with him, around him, devoured by him. So she kissed him again, running her fingers up until they'd tangled in his hair and she could hold him against her. His arms wrapped around her waist again in response and he lifted her in one smooth movement as he stood. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he carried her into the bedroom as his hands moved down to her ass, gripping her there and groaning as he let go to deposit her onto his bed.

She watched him as he undressed, admiring the hardness of his muscles when they rippled as he tore his shirt off over his head and bent to lower his trousers. She blushed when she realized there was nothing beneath them and was rewarded by the sight of his large penis, erect and ready for her. Unfortunately, she could not enjoy the view for long, because before she had a chance to properly appreciate the hard planes of his body he was beside her on the bed, his lips trailing from her mouth to her neck and up again to her ear where he whispered, "Tell me, Hermione, would you like for me to take you as I did before, or would you prefer to ride my cock until you come?"

As filthy as his words were, they excited her and she could do nothing but gasp and whimper a desperate "Yes," as he chuckled and muttered "Evanesco," vanishing every stitch of clothing on her body wandlessly and giving him access to her smooth skin and gentle curves. He touched her ceaselessly, his clever hands dancing from her neck down over her breasts, just brushing against the top of the hair between her thighs before sweeping back up to caress her breast. He kissed her as his hands wandered, stoking the fire which had begun to burn within her until it was a blazing heat which demanded that she touch him in return,

Her small hand curled around the hardened length of his sex and he hissed, biting his bottom lip before grabbing her hand and dragging it back up as he flipped their positions, rolling onto his back and settling her above him, her thighs on either side of his hips, her hair brushing his face as she leaned forward on to her hands, trying to catch her breath. "Lift," he ordered as his hands grasped her waist and pushed her up and forward until she could feel the tip of him at her entrance. She moaned as he pulled her back down, sliding himself into her inch by delicious inch until she was completely filled by him. He began to move beneath her then, his eyes locking on hers as he showed her how to roll her hips and use her hands on his shoulders as leverage. She learned quickly; she was not the best student in her year for no reason.

She lost track of time as she moved above him, relishing the sensation of him deep inside of her and the building pressure which at once agitated and relieved her. When she came her arms gave way and she collapsed on top of him, her breasts pressed against his chest, sweat making them both slick as he thrust once- twice more- and came beneath her with a guttural groan which made her shiver in delight.

They lay there for several minutes, breathing in tandem until at last Severus shifted beneath her, turning so that she slid off of him and kissing her lightly on the cheek.

"We should get ready now," he said, "Or we shall be late."

Hermione shrugged beside him, still nestled against his side. "I don't mind making Voldemort wait."

He chuckled and stroked one long finger up and down her spine. "No I don't think you would," he said, "But I assure you I would be made to regret it very much." He began to disengage himself from the woman at his side but was stopped by her hand on his chest and her soft voice in his ear.

"Severus?"

"Hm?"

"Is it ever going to end?"

"What?"

"Needing to renew the bond. The way I want you so badly when it's been too long." She could not look him in the eye as she spoke, despite that fact that he was facing her now. He seemed to think for a moment before responding.

"No, I don't think it will," he answered. "I have studied Sanguinis Copulam since we took our vows. I found several journals by those who had participated in it themselves. From what I can tell, the compulsion lessens as the need for it decreases."

 _Ah,_ thought Hermione, _So that's where the missing library books went_. "What do you mean?" she asked, choosing not to ask after them now.

Severus paused for a while longer before answering. "This marriage bond is not one of servitude," he said softly. "Though our vows seem extreme to us, in the past they were not so very out of the ordinary. The magic between us is not meant to hold us captive, but to unite us. I think with time, when we are drawn to one another more naturally, the compulsion will fade."

"So when we want to do this on our own?" Said Hermione.

Severus shrugged. "It is about more than physical desire. It is about a union of two magical souls."

"It sounds like you're talking about love," she said.

"I did not fully comprehend the journals' meaning," said Severus quickly, sitting up and swinging his legs out of the bed so that he sat at the edge. "Now come, it's time we go. We are expected elsewhere."

Hermione sighed, watching him stand and make his way into the bathroom. He was right, she thought, it was time to go. She would have plenty of time to ponder what he had told her later. Now, however, it was time to prepare to see Lord Voldemort once again. She only hoped she was equal to the task.


	19. Punishment

**A/N: I hope all of you had a lovely weekend, and a fun filled Valentine's Day. :) A lot of you seemed to be wondering what happens to Avery. Behold, all the answers you seek! Also, I have been getting all of your wonderful reviews, but haven't had a chance to respond to them yet. My parents have been in town this weekend, and I have a baby shower I'm planning that is happening this next weekend, so if I don't get back to you right away, rest assured that I _will_. My favorite part of writing this story is hearing from you what is working and what isn't and how much you are enjoying it. **

**BetaLove: FaceofPoe**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Punishment

June 13, 1997

Severus's bathroom was opulent in the extreme. Hermione thought she probably shouldn't have been surprised, considering how unlike her imagination the rest of his suite had been, but she was all the same. The floor was smooth marble as was the large vanity. A plain mirrored sheet of glass took up the entire wall about the wide single sink and the toilet was hidden behind another door beside it. In the center of the room stood a massive claw foot tub she imagined would hold not only Severus's large frame comfortably, but hers along with it. She blushed at the thought, dragging her eyes away from it and to the gown hanging on an antique looking hook on the back of the restroom door. It was lovely to look at and she hoped she didn't look too comical in such a mature gown. That was all she needed tonight, to look like a little girl playing dress up in her mother's clothing. Still, she supposed she had not looked overly ridiculous in Narcissa's borrowed gown two weeks before; perhaps there was a chance this one would bring out the same powerful looking woman she'd seen then.

She sighed, taking the dress down and stepping into it. She had already done her hair as best she could, unable to do much more than smooth it back with copious amounts of Sleekeazy's hair potion and make sure that the frizzy mess she usually contended with was tamed. She had resolved then to ask Narcissa about the charm she had used the last time Hermione had visited Malfoy Manor. It would be a useful thing to know, pride be damned. After her hair, Hermione had applied a bit of lip gloss and some eye makeup she had stuffed in her bag. She hadn't used the stuff since the Yule Ball, but it was a magical product, charmed to apply itself in the most appealing configuration and to last through the night without smudging. This evening, she had chosen a smoky eyed look, which though it was heavy, seemed to make her look less like Hermione Granger and more like the daughter of a Dark Lord. All that was left was the gown, and as she felt the smooth fabric slip up over her thighs, she shivered.

The dress was obviously magical, because once she had it slipped over her hips and up around her bust she felt the whole thing adjust around her. It tightened at her waist, flared a bit at her hips and fell freely to the floor in a narrow column. The bodice, which she thought must have stays in it, tightened around her ribs and up over her breasts. Hermione watched herself in the mirror as the dress molded to her frame, eyes widening as she realized just how revealing the gown actually was. It was strapless, and though it covered her entirely from the waist down in a stark white fabric which shimmered just slightly in the light, the cloth covering her breasts-one side white and the other an overlapping and contrasting black- did nothing to hide the gentle swell at the top or the valley between. Hermione blushed, turning in front of the mirror to see that the dress plunged daringly down her back in a V shape. She could not tell whether it was alluring or indecent.

Well, she thought, she certainly didn't look like a child. She was stunning really, completely mature and confident looking in a dress which fit her perfectly, at once exposing and masking her. No one who saw her tonight would make the mistake of calling her a mudblood, she was sure. She understood then why Severus had chosen this particular gown for her to wear tonight. She looked nothing like Hermione Granger as she stood there before the mirror. No, she had been transformed and in her place stood a haughty pureblood woman who was the heir to a dynasty older than memory, a woman deserving of praise and adoration and respect. Tonight she was not a muggleborn Gryffindor girl, she was a princess and heir of Slytherin… the Dark Lord's daughter.

She found him in the bedroom, already dressed in a set of formal black robes and a green cravat. His gaze widened appreciatively when he saw her and she thought she saw a flash of desire before it was hidden behind a scowl.

"It took you long enough," he said, slipping a silver pocket watch from his hand into the breast pocket of his robes. "We are very nearly late."

Hermione raised a brow. "Yes well, I had to take the time to get dressed in this costume," she said. "When you told me you would find me something appropriate to wear, I didn't think you meant something quite so...exhibitionist."

Severus shrugged and approached her impatiently, drawing his wand and waving it over her.

"It's perfectly modest for one of your fathers parties, I assure you," he answered as she felt the cold trickle of a disillusionment charm fall from her head down to her toes.

"I'm sure," she answered drolly.

Their trek through the school grounds and past the gates went quickly after that, and before Hermione really had a chance to protest Severus had grabbed her hand and apparated them to Wiltshire. The Manor was as she remembered it, opulent and lit from within by a great many twinkling lights. It seemed this was another social gathering and she scoffed as she remembered how Lord Voldemort had styled himself as a true aristocrat at the last gathering she had attended. It would have been amusing how badly he coveted the trappings of society if it didn't mean that she was a victim of his the time they reached the front doors Hermione realized that her hand was still in Severus's and she blushed, pulling her hand away and looking up at him.

He looked quite handsome tonight, she thought. He had done something to his hair while she dressed earlier and it had gone from lank and greasy from potion making, to soft and clean and brushed back from his face once more. He looked refined, aristocratic. It was no wonder he had done so well as Dumbledore's spy among the Death Eaters; he belonged here, no matter where he had been raised.

"As we discussed," he said to her, voice low as he ended the disillusionment charm on her. Hermione swallowed and nodded. They had spoken by owl this week about the details of the night, from that fact that he would find her an outfit to what she would tell the Dark Lord when it came time to kneel before him. She knew in theory that she was supposed to act as if she was at once disgusted and impressed by the events of the evening, that she was supposed to do exactly as Severus told her, when he told her, without any hesitation. She thought she might have a bit of a difficult time with that last one, considering he was sure to be not the man she had been intimate with less than an hour before, but the Death Eater she had been bound to by the Dark Lord's command.

He swept the door open and led her to the same room they had entered the first time she had visited the manor, the room where she had met the Dark Lord and later been married to the man at her side. It was lovely and alive with light, just as it had been two weeks before; the only difference tonight was that rather than being filled with the pleasant chatter of its aristocratic occupants, the room resounded with the sound of a woman's screams.

Hermione's eyes widened and she searched for the source of the awful noise for several moments before she found it. Bellatrix Lestrange was on the floor at Lord Voldemort's feet, alternately curling in on herself and arching back as she writhed in pain. Her hair which had been piled on top of her head was half down and sticking to the vomit on her face. Her black gown with its long sleeves and low cut bodice was ripped across the stomach and Hermione could see a jagged cut through the fabric, bleeding profusely on the expensive looking carpet on which she was being tortured. The crowd of about twenty people was gathered around her in a semicircle.

When Voldemort caught sight of Severus and Hermione in the doorway, he lifted his wand from where it had been pointed at Bellatrix, motioning for the pair of them to enter and turning his attention back to the woman on the carpet.

"Severusss," he said, serpentine eyes fixed on the face at his feet. "How good of you to join us at last."

"I regret our tardiness, My Lord," said Severus at once, bowing his head and looking at the floor as they approached him, stopping just short of Bellatrix as the people blocking their way moved to the side. "I'm afraid I underestimated the time it would take a teenage witch to dress to her own exacting standards."

"Nevermind," dismissed Voldemort, "We have other business to discuss." He jabbed his wand toward Bellatrix again and she screamed, tears streaming down her face as her nails dug into the vomit and blood stained carpet. The Dark Lord lifted his wand again and she continued to sob into the floor, vomiting again and laying her cheek in it as if she couldn't spare the energy to move even a few inches to the side.

"Were you aware, Severusss," said Voldemort, turning his glittering gaze the the man beside her who had sunk to his knees, head bowed, "that our hosts have disappeared from the premises? And that their ssson has not been heard from this night?"

Severus shook his head. "I was not, My Lord." he answered, not daring to say more. Hermione forced her expression to remain unchanged. The Malfoys were missing? She wondered if that meant that they had finally been swept to safety by the Order. She found herself hoping they had.

"No?" Voldemort's voice was thoughtful as he watched Severus, his wand now twirling between his fingers. He seemed to gaze at Severus for several seconds and Severus looked back up at him, meeting his gaze before the Dark Lord broke away and made an impatient noise. "It seems," he said, "it is our dear Bellatrix who is wholly deserving of my ire in this matter. Tell me, Bella, how is it that you allowed your sister and her husband to leave this place in my absence today? Did I not make my desires clear to you? How did you allow my plans to be so utterly ruined?"

"My Lord," whimpered Bellatrix from the floor, trying and failing to push herself up on her hands. Hermione winced as the woman splashed back into her own sick. "I have failed you," Bellatrix said, sounding more horrified at her own misdeed than at the torture she had undergone just moments before.

Lord Voldemort huffed and whirled around, his long, acromantula silk cloak swirling as he stalked to his throne and sat, staring contemptuously at the woman groveling before him. He waved a hand at her in disgust. "Get her out of my sight, Rodolphus," he ordered, and a dark haired man swept forward, grabbing Bellatrix by the arm and hoisting her up to drag her through the room without a hint of gentleness, a mixed look of disgust and rage across his features. The room was left in silence and in the absence of Bellatrix's screams, the other occupants of the room seemed to grow anxious.

"Hermione," said Lord Voldemort at last, "How kind of you to join us this evening. I am sorry to say that the entertainment we had planned for the evening has been somewhat altered. It seems the cause for celebration that I had anticipated is not to be." His eyes seemed to flash briefly with rage at that before cooling once more. "I hope you won't mind." Hermione looked to Severus who had stood as the Dark Lord addressed her. He nodded once as if giving her permission to speak. Her sense of annoyance flared but she turned back to the snake like man across the carpet from her.

"I find your idea of entertainment a bit nauseating, truth be told," she said, voice clear and confident. She followed her statement by vanishing the mess on the carpet in front of her.

"Kneel at once," hissed Severus from beside her, but Voldemort held up a hand to wave Severus off and tilted his head to the side, peering at Hermione through red, snake-like eyes.

"That is not necessary," he said, voice low before he spoke again more forcefully. "Does a child greet their father with such elaborate obeisance? I think not… You do not wish to kneel before me, do you, Hermione?"

Hermione, not quite sure how she was expected to respond, merely shook her head.

"No," said Voldemort thoughtfully. "You are no mere servant to spend your life bowing and scraping." He paused then spoke again, his voice solicitous. "You may greet me familiarly." And with that he held out a hand towards her, not bothering to move from his seat, only smiling grotesquely and waving for her to approach him.

She did so, every step taking more energy than she was sure she had. The room was silent and she could feel every eye on her, including Severus's own impassive gaze coming from behind. When she reached Voldemort she was not sure what to do, but his hand was still there held out to her and so she took it in hers, trying to ignore how cold his skin felt against hers, and shook it.

Lord Voldemort laughed as his Death Eaters began to murmur around them and Hermione felt Severus's hot breath on the back of her neck.

"Kiss his hand, you stupid girl," he hissed as if she'd embarrassed him somehow. Hermione's eyes widened and she looked back at him. His expression was thunderous and she felt sick at the thought of what he was asking her to do. Still, she took the Dark Lord's hand again before she really had a chance to examine her actions, leaning down and pressing her lips to his knuckles at Severus's command. When she had finished her face was aflame. She dropped Voldemort's hand as he chuckled again, stepping back and refusing to look up from the floor where she fixed her gaze stubbornly.

"Calm yourself, Severusss," soothed Lord Voldemort, "In time she will learn to pay her respects. Meanwhile I see you have managed to clothe her appropriately. I had not expected her to look quite so elegant."

"I live to serve, My Lord," Severus answered.

"Indeed."

There was a pause after that and Hermione forced herself to look back up at the man before her- her father, she thought. He was watching her and when she looked up he spoke.

"I've a gift for you, Hermione," he said and then called out to someone in the crowd, "Bring him in!"

Hermione whirled around at the sound of the double doors which led into the hallway slamming. Two men in black dress robes flanked a slumped figure who wore a bloodied and torn set of day robes. Hermione gasped as they grew closer, dropping the man at her feet just as she realized who it was.

"I am told you had the pleasure of making your uncle's acquaintance some days ago," said Voldemort, his voice high and clear now as he looked down at the man at Hermione's feet.

She swallowed and nodded as Avery groaned, clutching his side and looking up at first the girl before him and then the Dark Lord behind her.

"My Lord," he whispered, voice hoarse, but Severus cut him off before he could continue.

"I don't recall our Lord giving you permission to speak, Avery, " he said, voice cold and eyes narrowed.

"This doesn't concern you, Snape," said the blonde man bitterly, succeeding at last at rising to his knees and looking beseechingly at his master.

"I disagree," answered Severus, stepping into the other man's line of sight and crouching down to face him. "You touched what was given to me, Avery, a gift I prize above all others. Did you think I would stop at simply bringing you before the Dark Lord for chastisement?" He was sneering now, his look almost feral as he spoke to the beaten man before him, turning his head just slightly as Avery spit at him, spraying the side of Severus's face with spittle and streaks of blood. Severus waited for only a moment before backhanding the other man, sending him toppling backward onto the carpet, clutching his face and moaning aloud.

"Enough," ordered Voldemort, standing at last and sweeping past Hermione to crouch above Avery who lay prostrate on the ground, quaking as a puddle spread out from beneath his hips. "I thought I made myself quite clear before, Argus, that Hermione's blood is worth more than yours or your father's. Did you think I would not know you had abused her without my permission?"

"My Lord, I would never have… if I had known that you-"

"I am not interested in your excuses," said Voldemort coldly, rising and making his way back to the throne he had left. "I find however, that I owe you my gratitude," he continued, "You see, after today no one else will dare to contradict me where my daughter is concerned." Despite herself, Hermione felt a thrill of something like satisfaction at the Dark Lord's words. She was horrified at once by the thought, by what it said about her.

Avery scrambled, getting back to his hands and knees and crawling forward.

"Please! Please!" he cried, understanding now that he had not been brought before the Dark Lord to argue his position, but to be punished and made an example of. He crawled to Hermione, reaching out to touch the hem of her dress as he begged. She cringed back, and Voldemort laughed as Severus kicked the man forcefully in the jaw, knocking him to the side. A loud cracking sound and a scream from Avery accompanied the motion. Hermione winced and closed her eyes tightly, unable to watch what she was sure was coming.

"You see, Avery? Not even your niece pleads for you." The other Death Eaters in the room chuckled at that, all but Severus who stood unmoving beside Hermione, watching the man on the ground as he writhed and cried aloud.

"I grow tired of his mewling," said Lord Voldemort at last. "Kill him, Severusss."

Before Hermione had even opened her eyes again, her husband had spoken the words.

"Avada Kedavra!"

She watched as a jet of green light shot from the tip of his wand, speeding towards the cowering Avery and hitting him in the chest. The light seemed to explode as it made contact, engulfing him completely in a flash of eerie light and then receding. He stopped moving after that, eyes still open wide, jaw hanging at an unnatural angle, covered in blood and piss at Hermione's feet.

The room was silent as they stood there, a grotesque tableau wherein Hermione played the role of the horrified princess and Severus her murdering husband. Behind them, The Dark Lord sat, watching her back for any sign of movement. At last, Hermione collected her wits and swallowed back the protest she had been about to make on Avery's behalf, instead forcing herself to straighten her spine and lift her chin in defiance. She would not make a spectacle of herself over this, would not risk her looking too weak to handle the vile act which had just been carried out in her name.

"I'm afraid as far as gifts go, it's rather lacking," she forced herself to say. Her voice came out hoarse but unafraid. "I would have preferred a box of chocolate frogs, truth be told."

The Death Eaters surrounding them burst into nervous laughter at her words as she turned to face Voldemort. He sat pensively in his seat, head propped on his elbow as he leaned to the side, inspecting her. Beside her, Severus stood with his hands behind his back, eyes downcast in deference.

"Tell me, Hermione," said the Dark Lord as he watched her, voice only loud enough for herself and Severus to hear. "What news do you have for me?"

She refused to make eye-contact, looking at the floor instead of the monster in front of her, gripping her wand in one hand tightly where she stood, aware that she had no chance of cursing her father and that to attempt to do so would be a mistake of monumental proportions, but still enjoying the thought of it.

"Tell the Dark Lord what you told me," he said at once, and as he finished the room fell silent once more.

Hermione waited for as long as she could in the silence, only speaking when she saw Snape move to open his mouth again.

"Harry is meeting with Dumbledore in private," she said through gritted teeth. She threw a hateful look at Severus as the Dark Lord inhaled.

"And what do they do during these meetings?"

Hermione stayed stubbornly silent.

"Answer him immediately," said Severus, sounding impatient now.

"He won't tell us!" cried Hermione, "Dumbledore told him not to tell us but…" She let her voice trail off.

Voldemort leaned forward in his chair. "Continue," he said. Hermione blushed and looked down at her feet.

"We think they are magic lessons," she said, "Magic we're not supposed to learn at school."

"The dark arts?" Voldemort sounded surprised at this and Hermione watched the hem of his robes as he rose and approached her, grabbing her jaw with his icy fingers and forcing her gaze up until she was staring into his snake-like eyes and he was swimming in her memories. After some moments he withdrew and Hermione blinked, grateful that all he had found were the shield memories Severus had built in her head, and that he seemed to believe her.

"Very well," said Voldemort, turning his back and leaving Hermione to stand there at the center of his followers' attention. "Leave me. Tonight's activities are canceled. We will need to relocate. I shall inform you all of the change when I deem fit." He turned back to face them all and then sneered down at Avery's corpse in disgust. "And someone dispose of this before it begins to reek."

Hermione fled, not waiting for Severus as she pushed past the Death Eaters now milling about the luxuriously appointed room as they prepared to take their leave. She reached the lane beyond the hedge without much thought, unable to focus on anything but the sight of Avery lying dead on the expensive rug which she could not push from her mind.

A hand on her arm took her by surprise and she whirled around, wand raised instinctively and pressed against a solid chest which heaved just slightly with the effort of having caught up to her. Severus glared down at her but released her arm, balling his hands into fists at his side and sneering.

"I did not give you permission to-"

"Did you enjoy it?" Hermione interrupted Severus, looking up with him as his eyes widened slightly and his nostrils flared.

"This is hardly the place to discuss-"

"Just answer the question," she took a step closer to him, jabbing the tip of her wand roughly into his chest. "Did you. Enjoy. Murdering him?"

He watched her for a moment before lifting his chin and nodding once.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the dark night, and as Hermione raised her hand to slap him again she felt a bruising force wrap around her wrist, gripping hard and catching her next blow before it landed. He growled then, a bright red handprint blossoming on his left cheek as he used his free hand to pluck her wand away and then advanced, walking her backwards until she felt her shoulder blades hit the neatly manicured hedge which surrounded the Malfoy Estate.

"You dare to judge me?" He breathed as he glared down at her, her wrist still in his vice-like grasp. "You stood there beside me and mocked the man's corpse when I was done, Madame Snape. We are not so very different."

"I did what I needed to do! I didn't take some sort of sick pleasure in it!"

Severus's eyes flashed and he lowered his face to within an inch of hers. "Yes, I enjoyed watching him die, Hermione. Avery was a sickening man who I have watched maim, murder, rape, and pillage in the past-"

"That doesn't give you a right to decide whether he lives or dies!" cried Hermione, pressing her hands to his chest and shoving as hard as she could. He barely budged.

"I DIDN'T DECIDE!" His voice rent the night air as he bellowed in her face, releasing her wrist to slam his hands against the hedge on either side of her face. He seemed to struggle for a moment to control himself before he spoke again, voice restrained and barely more than a whisper. "I did not decide. The Dark Lord decided that Avery would die tonight, and Avery made the decision to touch what was not his. So yes, I killed him, and I took pleasure in watching him cower before me in his own piss and blood. Because he was a monster, Hermione, an evil bastard who gave his own sister- your mother- to the Dark Lord and then went on to murder countless muggle women before he chose to assault my wife. I enjoyed killing the man who terrorized you and I freely admit that…" His voice broke and Hermione had to look away, unable to meet his gaze which was at once intense and tortured.

"I am not a good man," he said when he spoke again, "You were not bound to some lily-white prince who abhors violence and will not stoop to defend what is his. I am a Death Eater, Hermione…" And he could not seem to force himself to say more than that because his voice trailed off and he closed his eyes, leaning forward slightly to rest his forehead against hers.

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as they stood there against the hedge, his arms caging her in as he seemed to wilt before her. Suddenly, she regretted judging him, regretted asking the question in the first place. Who was she to condemn him when she herself had felt a sliver of pleasure when Avery had begged for his life on hands and knees.

"I'm sorry," she whispered at last, not sure how to articulate what she was feeling. "I didn't mean to-"

"Snape. My Lady." The pair startled at the sound of a gravely voice from behind them on the lane.

"Yaxley," nodded Severus as he disengaged himself from Hermione, his face impassive as the other man passed them, keeping his own gaze carefully on the road ahead. They watched him disapparate once he reached the edge of the Malfoy wards and followed behind, neither speaking. There was nothing more to say.


	20. Normal

**A/N: I can hardly believe I'm already posting chapter twenty of this story. We're nearly half way through! Thank you to all of you reading along and reviewing, especially to the two lovely people (you know who you are!) who read and reviewed every chapter as they went. I am honestly flattered and touched, and even more inspired to continue writing at a quick pace so that I can keep to this twice weekly posting schedule. Thanks also go out to my lovely beta, FaceofPoe, and to PalmettoBlue, who looked over this chapter while dear FP focused on her sick baby.**

 **Speaking of PalmettoBlue, if you are at all interested in Harmony, I urge you to run, NOT walk, over to her lovely story, _Paint Her Black._ It is so very, very good! **

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**Chapter Twenty: Normal**

 **June 14, 1997**

Hermione was surprised at how easy it was for her to pretend everything was normal the next morning. She woke up. She got dressed. She listened to Lavender and Parvati complain about all the noise she was making, and then she descended the girls' staircase into the common room, a book in one hand. She was surprised to see Harry and Ron dozing in chairs by the fire and walked to where they sat; she settled in across from them and put her book on the low table between them.

"Harry," she said, voice soft. She knew from experience that waking him gently was the better option. On the one occasion she had jarred him awake he had jerked violently and nearly hit her in the eye. "Harry, wake up."

His eyes fluttered open slowly, black lashes dipping several times before finally lifting and exposing his brilliant green eyes.

"Hermione?"

"Good morning," she smiled. "How did you end up falling asleep down here?"

Harry looked confused for several seconds before he realized where he was, and then his expression went from half awake to alert in the space of a heartbeat.

"Ron," he said, voice loud as he shoved the redhead's shoulder, pushing him to the side so that his head hit the side of the wingback chair he sat in, startling him awake.

"Wus goin' on?" he said, taking a little longer than Harry had to realize where he was.

"Good morning, Ronald," said Hermione, leaning back in her chair and crossing one jean clad leg over the other. "What were you two doing last night that you couldn't be bothered to walk up the stairs to bed?"

"What were we doing?" echoed Ron, "What were _you_ doing?" Hermione stiffened just slightly at the question and at the somewhat accusatory expression on her friend's face and schooled her expression into what she hoped was one of confusion.

"What do you mean, what was I doing?" she said.

"We were looking for you last night," explained Harry, who looked a lot more reasonable that Ron at the moment. "We sent Ginny up to your rooms to look for you and Lavender said she hadn't seen you all night. We were worried."

Bloody hell, thought Hermione. She could count on one hand the number of times either of the boys had sent someone to look for her before, and it was just her luck that it had to happen on a night she was meeting with the Dark Lord.

"I was studying," she said, trying to sound exasperated. "I was trying to find _something_ about Eileen Prince in the library. You recall her, don't you? Probably the author of that book you've been cheating out of all year?" Harry flushed but Ron remained unphased, crossing his arms stubbornly and leaning back in his chair

"All night?" Ron asked, sounding suspicious.

" I fell asleep in the library, if you must know," said Hermione dismissively. "And I'm not sure I appreciate being interrogated by either of you." With that, she moved as if to stand but was waylaid when Harry reached a hand towards her.

"Wait," he said, "We were looking for you for a reason. I had another meeting with Dumbledore last night." His bright green eyes were shining as he spoke and she could see that he was excited about something. Hermione leaned toward him just as Ron did the same. She glanced around the common room to make doubly sure they were alone before she spoke again.

"Did you find out something important?" she asked, voice low.

"We went to find one," said Harry, "Dumbledore took me with him and we found one of Voldemort's hiding places." Hermione gasped, eyes widening.

"You found a Horcrux?" she whispered.

Harry shook his head and frowned. "No. Someone else had been there before us. All we found was a fake locket with a note inside." Harry reached into his jumper, tugging on a thin gold chain and pulling out a cheap looking, amber colored locket.

"What did the note say?" asked Hermione, excited despite herself. Harry shrugged.

"Just that someone had stolen the real horcrux and was planning to destroy it. Professor Dumbledore thinks it was Regulus Black."

"Regulus Black- But that's Sirius's brother isn't it?"

Ron nodded in affirmation and then turned his face towards Harry.

"Tell her about the inferi," he said, sounding equal parts in awe of an frightened by the dark magic Harry had encountered.

"There were inferi?" asked Hermione, voice higher than she had meant for it to go. The trio looked around at the empty common room once more and then Harry nodded.

"A whole army of them just waiting for someone to try and take the horcrux."

"But how did you get past them?" said Hermione, careful to keep her voice low.

"He had Dumbledore with him, didn't he?" said Ron.

It made sense, thought Hermione. The wizard who had defeated Grindelwald _would_ be able to fight off an army of inferi. "So what next?" she asked, "Now that you have a lead on the horcrux? If Regulus Black had it, it might be at Grimmauld Place, mightn't it?"

Harry shrugged and his expression grew somber.

"Yeah, maybe," he said, "but we can't check yet."

"Why not?" said Hermione, "Sirius left you the place didn't he? Dumbledore could take you there right now and you could-"

"Dumbledore's been hurt." Ron interrupted Hermione, a frown on his face. "You-Know-Who had some kind of potion guarding the locket. Dumbledore drank it and he's in the hospital wing recovering."

"Dumbledore just _drank_ a poison Voldemort had guarding a piece of his soul? Is he mad?!"

"Keep your voice down, Hermione," chided Harry, looking a bit cross now. "And he's not mad, he's bloody brave. I offered to drink it but he-"

"You offered to drink it!? Harry what were you thinking?" Hermione hissed. It was just like him to offer to do something so stupid. It was as if he honestly had no idea how important he was in the fight against Voldemort.

"Lay off, Mione," said Ron as Harry crossed his arms defensively and began to look mutinous. Hermione winced and nodded.

"Sorry," she said.

"Yeah, well, thanks," said Harry, seeming to relax a bit before growing more morose in the silence that ensued.

"What is it?" asked Hermione. She had had enough experience with the moods of Harry James Potter to realize when something more was bothering him. He seemed to hesitate before answering, as if he weren't quite sure how he should phrase his thoughts, or didn't know what sort of response he would receive.

"I've just been thinking," he said at last, "About something Professor Dumbledore said to me last night, after I'd taken him to the hospital wing."

"What did he say?" asked Ron, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the tops of his knees. He hadn't heard this either yet, realized Hermione, which meant Harry had purposefully kept it from him until now. Whatever it was must have been weighing on her friend's mind.

Harry seemed to waver for a moment, unsure of whether he should answer before his expression morphed from one of indecision to resolution and he spoke.

"He said we would need to keep looking for Horcruxes," he said, sounding determined, "And that he was planning on leaving the school to do it." Hermione gasped.

"Leave the school?" she asked in disbelief. Dumbledore- who had always made the school his first priority- was planning to abandon them?

"He told me he thinks the ministry is going to fall to Voldemort soon," Harry continued, "And that when it does he won't be able to stay here. He said the quickest way to end the war is going to be by destroying the rest of the horcruxes and then going after Voldemort…" His voice trailed off as he seemed to gather courage before speaking again. "And I'm going to go with him."

Neither Hermione nor Ron reacted at first. The both of them had known Harry long enough to be able to tell when he had made up his mind, and as she thought about it, Hermione couldn't fault him for his decision. As much as his declaration worried her, she knew that what he wanted more than anything was a world free of Voldemort, one where he could stop being Harry Potter 'The Boy Who Lived', and instead be someone who worried about nothing more than Quidditch games and test scores… and she knew he would do anything to achieve that dream.

"I'll go with you," said Ron after several long seconds of silence. Hermione smiled despite herself. Ron, who was certainly known to let his temper get the better of him, was also one of the most loyal, bravest people she knew. She would not have expected him to do anything but follow Harry in this. And it was then that she realized, as much as she might want to say the same as Ronald, as much as she wanted to be there for Harry, helping him search for and destroy the tortured and fragmented pieces of Voldemort's soul he was using to keep himself alive… she couldn't. Bound as she was to Severus, and at the mercy of the very person Harry would be seeking to destroy, she could not follow him in this.

"I'll stay," said Hermione softly, not daring to meet either of the boys' gaze. "I think I'll be most helpful researching here; or at Order Headquarters if the school is taken. We all know I'm more comfortable with books than adventures anyway," she joked, trying to sound as casual and as sincere as possible. When she looked up, Ron was giving her a searching look, but before he could speak, Harry nodded and then glanced at the redhead beside him.

"Ron, maybe you ought to stay with-"

"Don't be barmy," said Ron, looking away from Hermione smiling genuinely at his friend, "You know I'm coming, so don't even try and talk me out of it." Harry smiled at this and looked as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

The three of them continued to talk until Ginny made her way down the steps and into the common room, after which she and Harry headed to breakfast, leaving Hermione alone with a thoughtful looking Ron who was watching her with an odd expression she couldn't quite place. She worried that he was about to ask her questions she would rather not answer. What if he didn't believe her excuse about sleeping in the library that night, or if he had seen something he shouldn't have and was about to confront her about it? Good Lord, what if he had seen her with Severus somehow? Merlin, she should distract him, say something to change the topic and make it awkward for him to say whatever it was that was on his mind.

"Ron-"

"Hermione-"

They spoke at the same time and Hermione winced as they both fell silence. There went her chance of changing to subject. Perhaps if she- but before she could think of anything else to do Ron was talking again.

"There's something different about you lately," he said, not mincing words or bothering with artifice as he spoke.

"I don't know what you mean," said Hermione, trying to sound casual and shrugging her shoulders dismissively.

"You've been avoiding us," said Ron, leaning towards her and speaking plainly.

"I haven't," argued Hermione, "I've just been busy with exam stuff. Besides, I spent time with you just yesterday, didn't I?"

"Because we cornered you," said Ron. "And then you picked a fight to get away."

"I didn't pick a fight."

"Then what was all that rubbish about Ellen Prince?"

Hermione's nostrils flared as she huffed and crossed her arms. "Her name was _Eileen_ Prince. Not, Ellen."

"Whatever, the point is you haven't been spending time with us. You've been studying all of the time, and normally I would chalk it up to Hermione being Hermione,"

"There's nothing wrong with studying, Ronald-"

"But this time it seems more intentional. So what the bloody hell is going on?" Ron ended by folding his arms and leaning back his his chair, looking for all the world like he was willing to wait her out. He watched her, gaze locked on hers as she looked back at him in disbelief, exasperated that of all the times he could have picked to be observant, Ronald Weasley had to pick now, when it would inconvenience her the most. And what was she supposed to say to him? He was right, dammit, she _had_ been avoiding them. What else was she supposed to do? Her life had changed completely and she couldn't pretend all of the time that it hadn't. When she was with her friends, there was always in the back of her mind the thought that if they really knew who she was, what she had done, that they would never trust her the way they had before. How could they? Her father had murdered Harry's parents, had murdered Ron's uncles.

At a loss for words, Hermione shook her head, dropping her eyes and focusing on her hands which lay neatly folded over her lap. Ron sighed and leaned forward again, running a hand through his hair before speaking.

"Look Hermione, I think I know what this is about," he said. Hermione's heart beat accelerated to a frantic pace and her hands clenched in her lap. Oh God, he knew. How had he found out her secret? What had he seen? Who had he told?

"Ron, please-"

"Just let me say this," he cut her off, "Let me get it out before you deny anything." Hermione looked up at him, horror etched over her face as she closed her mouth and nodded once, eyes glistening.

He watched her for a while before he spoke, as if he were worried she might change her mind and start talking again. When he seemed certain he had her attention, he sighed heavily, his expression changing from one of determination to one of disappointment.

"I know this is about what I asked you the other day, and I just wanted to apologize," he said. Hermione's brows arched in surprise but Ron was thankfully focused on his knees instead of her face, as if he weren't able to bring himself to look at her while he spoke. "I assumed after Lavender that… well… I assumed you knew how I felt and felt the same way. It was stupid and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I don't think you should punish Harry though, just because I misread things. We can both just pretend I didn't say anything and go on as normal because"-and here he raised his face, looking miserable- "I don't want to lose you as a friend. You're too important."

Hermione stared on in utter shock. She had nearly forgotten about Ron asking her to Hogsmeade in the chaos which had been her personal life lately, and to be so forcibly reminded of it again was jarring. _This_ was what Ron had thought was bothering her, why he thought she had been avoiding them? She supposed she should be relieved, but as innocuous a situation as this seemed compared to what she had faced the night before, she still had no idea how to respond. What could she say to him? Telling him the truth was obviously out; somehow, 'I really did like you, but then I found out I'm You-Know-Who's daughter and married Professor Snape, so I haven't really had a chance to think of you in more than a passing manner since then,' just fell flat. And lying completely, as simple as that would make things, did not sit well with her. Merlin, what would old Hermione have said to him?

She waited for as long as she could in the silence. She waited until it became uncomfortable and Ron began to look at her pleadingly, and then she forced herself to speak.

"It's not that I didn't like you," she said, voice low as she spoke, "I did like you, Ron."

"But you just don't want to date me," said Ron, sounding bitter despite every effort not to.

Hermione flinched at his tone and felt wretched. "Ron, I _can't_ date you," she whispered, "And it's not because you're not brilliant, because you are… I just can't. It's not you."

Ron laughed humorlessly at that and put his face in his hands. His tops of his ears were burning red. "'It's not you, it's me'? Merlin, Mione, you're terribly at letting a bloke down easy."

"Oh Ron," said Hermione, her heart breaking for the friend she so admired, who was obviously hurting because of her.

He stood after that, stuffing his hands in his pockets and refusing to meet her gaze as he stood awkwardly before her. "Look," he said, "I don't want things to be awkward because of me. You're one of my best friends even if I am an idiot."

"You're not an idiot, Ron."

"Yeah well, whatever I am, I'm not your type, and you shouldn't feel bad about that. Just-" his voice broke for a moment and he cleared his throat. "Just know I don't hate you or blame you or anything. And please don't punish Harry because I'm a prat."

Hermione felt very small as she sat there, understanding now how Ronald must have felt having her avoid him, seeing that her acts of self preservation might have made her a fairly terrible friend to the two boys who meant more than almost anyone else to her.

"I'm sorry," was all she could force herself to say. What explanation could suffice to mend Ron's feelings and her own inadequacies?

"S'all right," said Ron. "Anyway, I should go catch up with Harry and Gin. I'll see you soon," he said, and before Hermione could say more he was heading for the portrait hole and climbing through, leaving her behind in the empty common room with her own regretful thoughts.

She sat by the fire as students began to trickle down from their beds and out towards the promise of breakfast. She sat and she thought about how much her life had changed, about how vastly different her role was now from what it had once been, and as she examined her own emotions and responses to the hand which had been dealt her, she realized how juvenile she had been. In the future, she thought, she would be better. She would be more accepting of the things she couldn't change, she would be more present with her friends while she could… and she would be more open with Severus. She couldn't afford to play the shy schoolgirl with him any longer. This was her life, no matter whether she had chosen it or not, and she would live it to the very best of her ability.

Against the delicate skin between her breasts, the locket Severus had given to her began to burn. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as she waited in stillness before reaching for it and reading the message within.


	21. End of Term

**A/N: I am seriously astounded at how much you all seem to be enjoying this story. Thank you so much for letting me know. Just a warning that my writing has been slowing a bit lately and I am falling behind on my chapter lead. I'm guessing that eventually my posts will slow to once a week rather than twice a week. Hopefully I can prevent that for a while longer though. Beta Love to the amazing FaceofPoe who helped a great deal with logic in this chapter. I'd be lost without her.**

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 **Chapter Twenty-One: End of Term**

 **June 14, 1997**

The hospital wing was all but abandoned this late at night. Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, and as Hermione snuck across the ward to the private room at the back, she could see that only one of the beds was occupied by a soundly sleeping first year. She entered the room just as Severus had instructed, giving the small portrait on the door the password and then stepping into the darkened room. This, she supposed, was where teachers went when they got sick. It made sense that when they needed care they were not lumped in with the students in the general ward, Madame Pomfrey would hardly have allowed them to be so distracted by students when they were meant to be resting.

It did not take long for Hermione's eyes to adjust to the room. The light of the quarter moon filtered in through a series of open windows on the wall to her left, and a single candle burned on a low table to her right, just beside a bed where a worn and sickly Professor Dumbledore lay sleeping.

"Don't just loiter by the door." She heard him just before she saw him. Severus was sitting in the corner near the Headmaster's bed, a book open in one hand and the other using his wand to conjure a seat beside his. "Come, sit."

She did as he said, not bothering to comment over his high-handedness for fear of waking Professor Dumbledore. She watched him as she perched on the newly-conjured chair. He was reading a text that looked positively ancient, his dark eyes grazing across its pages intently as he seemed to drink in their contents. He looked up as he turned the page, catching Hermione's eye and making her look down in embarrassment.

"Is there some reason you're studying me?" he asked, voice low and resonant. It was the same voice he used when he was talking about potions and it sent a pleasant shiver through her.

"No," she said, "I was only wondering what it is you're reading." Severus arched a brow and closed the book he held with a soft snap, holding it out for her to inspect. She took it from him, feeling the weight of it in her hands and turning it over to see the cover. It was leather bound and frail, but other than those facts, Hermione could tell nothing about the text. There were no words anywhere on the binding, and when she carefully opened the book she realized it wasn't even written in English.

"What is it?" she asked, looking up from the book at Severus who sat motionless across from her, still dressed in a set of voluminous teaching robes.

"That," said Severus, "Is one of the many journals of Salazar Slytherin."

Hermione blanched, her hands growing completely still on the volume in her hands as her mouth fell open and she stared at Severus in disbelief. He chuckled softly at her reaction and Hermione blushed, setting the the journal gently on the small table to her right and then looking back at the smirking man in front of her. He was handsome when he wasn't scowling, she thought. His lips were not pressed into a tight line but were full and quirked upward at the corners. They looked inviting.

"What are you doing just handling such a rare artifact like that?" she chided, "You should be wearing gloves at the very least, if not levitating the thing."

"Are you a burgeoning librarian, Madame Snape?" he teased, "I must take care to warn Irma that you're out for her job."

"I just have a healthy respect for literature," argued Hermione, "Especially one so unique as this. Why were you reading it, anyway?"

Snape watched her for a moment, his expression sobering somewhat before answering. "It was one of the only records available in the library which gave particulars regarding a Sanguinis Copulam bond."

Hermione did not hide her surprise at his words. "Salazar Slytherin took the same vows we did?" Somehow, the idea of the founder of Slytherin binding himself to another person so completely seemed absurd to her. In her mind she knew that he had been a man like any other, with a wife and a family of his own… but the wizarding world had a way of mythologizing the four Hogwarts founders, and of boiling them down to little more than the traits their respective houses prized. To the students of Hogwarts, Salazar Slytherin was little more than some long dead man who was cunning and had hated muggleborns.

"Yes," said Severus, "with his wife, Hildred. He goes into great detail concerning the bond and its effects on the both of them."

Hermione swallowed. "Have you learned anything new?" Severus shook his head and leaned back in his chair.

"No. Aside from the fact that Salazar was far more prone to order his wife about than I… and for a variety of reasons."

"Oh yes, I can imagine it right now," said Hermione bitterly, "'Hildred, I order you to wash my socks." Severus looked amused and leaned towards her dropping his voice.

"Nothing so pedestrian. He was Slytherin after all. I believe the last command I read was for her to pleasure him with her mouth beneath the desk in his study." Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth dropped into an 'O' of surprise while Severus chuckled once more.

"But that's terrible! He was forcing her to-"

"It seems she was quite a willing participant from his account," Severus said dryly.

Hermione's shocked look morphed into one of disgust as she glared at the dark haired man in front of her. "If you ever-" she began to threaten, but was cut off as Severus finished her thought for her.

"I imagine you would force feed me my testicles the very next time I presented them to you," he snorted.

"You're damn right I would," said Hermione, and at that Severus let out a quiet laugh, tossing his head back as his shoulders shook. "I'm serious," added Hermione, trying to keep her expression severe, but this only seemed to amuse him further, because Severus's eyes closed and his hands went up to cover his face and he tried hard to stay quiet so as not to disturb the sleeping man beside him. When he was through, Hermione was torn between being amused or disgruntled at his reaction. When he turned his smile back on her and she felt her heart flutter, she settled for the former.

"You know you're quite fetching when you smile like that," remarked Hermione, watching him as his eyes glittered and he seemed to relax even further.

"Is that so?" he teased, flashing her an unfamiliar grin which seemed to light up his face and made a very large part of Hermione ache that he hadn't had more occasion to do so before then.

"Yes," she assured him, voice husky now with emotion as she spoke. She looked down at her hands and folded them neatly in her lap. Severus watched her for almost a minute after that as she studiously avoided his gaze, not sure why she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes again, but positive that if she did something would happen that would be completely out of her control. At last, Severus sighed, uncrossing his legs and leaning towards her.

"Hermione," he said without preamble, "When term ends next week, you'll be staying here with me."

"What?" Her amber eyes snapped up to meet his and she saw that all traces of mirth were gone from his face. The absence made her heart twinge uncomfortably.

"I spoke with the Headmaster at length this afternoon, before Madame Pomfrey gave him the sleeping draught. We agreed it would be best for you to skip the train and stay at Hogwarts over the summer," said Severus.

"That's ridiculous," Hermione dismissed. "What would I tell Harry and Ron? 'Sorry you two, I won't be catching the express back because I'm staying at school to shag my husband.'"

"Don't be obtuse, Hermione." Severus scolded, his face having twisted into a scowl at the mention of her friends. "We can hardly be separated as the bond currently stands. To leave would be ridiculous."

" _Not_ to go would cause questions. I've got to at least make a short appearance at the Burrow. Ron already thinks I'm avoiding them and- "

"Are you so afraid of your little friends that you're unwilling to do as Dumbledore wishes?"

"As Dumbledore wishes, or as you wish, Severus?" asked Hermione pointedly. Severus scoffed and crossed his arms, clearly annoyed at Hermione's obstinance.

"The Headmaster," he spat, "Has arranged an apprenticeship for you with Professor Slughorn. You will tell Potter and Weasley that you've been given an outstanding opportunity and are loathe to bypass it."

"An apprenticeship with- But that doesn't make any sense! I've got a year left before graduation!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Not anymore," said Severus, and if Hermione was not mistaken, that was a look of satisfaction lingering on his face. "The Headmaster has arranged for you to sit the NEWTs early. Merlin knows you're enough of a know-it-all to pass tomorrow, but he's been gracious and given you a month to study."

Hermione's eyes widened as Severus watched her. A month? She was going to be taking the NEWTs in a month? Of all the things that had happened to her since finding out Voldemort was her father, this was perhaps the worst. The thought that her unfortunate heredity was affecting not just her social status, but her _education_ … God, she wanted to see the snake bleed for this.

"And I'm just supposed to go along with this absurd idea?" asked Hermione at last, "It doesn't even make any sense! Me- a sixth year- staying over the summer to take NEWTs early and become an apprentice makes about as much sense as you teaching Care of Magical Creatures! Harry will never believe it!"

Severus scoffed incredulously. "Potter? Please. The boy barely has enough sense in his head to put his trousers on before his shoes. He'll believe whatever you tell him. You've been the brains of that ridiculous trio since it was founded, and neither of the empty-headed pea-brains will think to question you." He paused, eyes glittering again. "Besides, Dumbledore tells me he's informed Potter that the ministry may well fall this summer. They'll think your education is being fast-tracked to help the cause."

"And when I stay at Hogwarts after the ministry falls? What then, Severus? Will they think Voldemort made an exception to his no mudbloods allowed rule because I'm just too talented at Potions to let go?" Hermione was scowling now, and squaring off in front of Severus.

"I will deal with Mr. Potter." She was startled by the hoarse voice of Albus Dumbledore as he spoke from where he lay on the bed beside them.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster, I did not mean to wake you," said Severus at once, sitting down beside the man and pulling out his wand. He waved it over Dumbledore's chest, speaking a spell with which Hermione was not familiar and then lowering his hand, seemingly satisfied. "I was just informing Madame Snape of your plans for her over the summer months. She had doubts that it would allow her to keep her friends in the dark about her circumstances." Hermione rolled her eyes and sat back down, crossing her arms stubbornly as she tossed her head to the side.

"So I gathered," said Dumbledore as he moved to sit up against several pillows Severus helped him to pile behind himself. "But I assure you, Miss Granger, that until the ministry falls Harry will have no reason to suspect your secret." His voice was still hoarse when he spoke and Hermione winced at how frail he sounded.

"And after Voldemort is in control?" asked Hermione, "What then?"

It was Severus who answered her, his tone decidedly softer than it had been just a minute before. "Did you expect to keep this all a secret forever, Hermione?"

The question took her by surprise and Hermione stared back at him with furrowed brows. Had she? She had denied thinking about her reality for so long that examining it now in light of all she had learned was throwing her dilemma into rather sharp focus. Of course she had hoped never to have to reveal what she had learned in the library, to keep her association with Severus and the Death Eaters secret from her friends for as long as possible… but as long as possible, it seemed, would not be very long at all. What other options did she have? If the ministry was going to fall to Voldemort as Dumbledore predicted, she would hardly be hunted alongside other known muggleborns. How else could she explain her presence at a school where her kind would otherwise be anathema? Her only other option would be to leave the school altogether, but with Snape there…

"Why don't we just leave?" said Hermione, her voice low as she spoke to Dumbledore directly. "Severus and I can come with you and Harry and Ron to hunt the horcruxes down."

Dumbledore's eyes widened for just a moment before his face settled back into a serene mask. "As much of an asset as I know the two of you would be," he said, "I have need of you both where you are. We cannot afford to lose our spy in Voldemort's ranks."

"So we're just supposed to let everyone know? How do you imagine Harry and Ron will take it when they find out I'm not just Voldemort's daughter, but that I'm shagging his spy as well?" she carefully ignored Severus as she spoke, refusing to even glance at his expression.

"I imagine they will react in whatever way I desire them to," answered Dumbledore, his eyes almost glittering as he spoke with a certainty that shocked Hermione. Here then, was the man who had defeated Grindelwald, who had sent Severus to serve a maniac and who had convinced her to do the same. She realized then that the kindly Headmaster she thought she had known was just one facet of a man more complex than she had ever imagined. She felt a stab of anger at the thought that this man had manipulated her, that he had manipulated Severus years ago, and that he was even now planning to manipulate Harry and Ron.

"I see," said Hermione at last, swallowing back her fury and looking from Dumbledore to Severus. Her husband was watching her with unreadable black eyes. "And you think this is the best option?"

"I do," said Dumbledore from the bed, but Hermione only had eyes for Severus, who continued to watch her intently before giving one short nod.

"Fine," she said, getting to her feet and turning her back on both of the men. "I suppose I'll see the both of you soon then." She made her way stiffly to the door, only stopping when Professor Dumbledore spoke once more from behind her. His voice was softer now, kinder.

"Miss Granger? I will keep the both of them safe. You needn't worry on that score. "

"I should hope so," said Hermione, not bothering to turn around as she continued out into the students' ward. "Or else what was the bloody point?"

O-O-O-O-O-O

 _June 20, 1997_

She had watched them go with a smile on her face. She had kissed their cheeks and told them how sorry she was not to be going with them. She had told them to be safe, and then she had waved them off, laughing as they leaned out the train car window and reminded her not to study too hard. Then she had come back to her room and cried.

"Hermione?"

His voice in the doorway startled her, and when she looked up her first thought was that he looked more out of place than she had ever seen him before. Severus Snape in the Gryffindor girls dormitory was a study in contrasts. Where the decorations were vibrant and feminine, he was all darkness and masculinity, his teaching robes gone as there were no students left to intimidate and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"How did you get up here?" asked Hermione, unable to think of anything else to say. Severus looked amused by the question and crossed to stand beside her.

"Did you really think that ridiculous enchantment on the stairs applied to professors as well?"

Hermione smiled weakly. "No, I suppose not."

Severus sat beside her on the sturdy four poster bed she'd spent the last six years sleeping in. It was neatly made and freshly laundered, courtesy of the Hogwarts house-elves who had been in while she had been seeing the boys off.

"I looked for you in your new rooms and didn't find you," said Severus softly. He wasn't looking at her, which Hermione thought was a small blessing. She always looked a frightful splotchy mess when she cried.

"Yes well, I thought I'd come back and grab my things and I saw the house-elves had already done it."

"I see," said Severus, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he finally turned to glance at her. His expression was compassionate and it at once pleased and worried her. God, she must look absolutely disastrous if he was looking at her like that.

"Should we have sex?" she said at once, desperate to change the subject and not feeling particular enough to care what they spoke about instead.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sex. It's been a couple days, and we should probably do it again if we want to avoid any ill effects. We could do it here. Just get it over with before we head down."

"Just get it over with?" He sounded incredulous, as if he were more upset at the implication that sex with him was something to be done quickly than by having been propositioned in the Gryffindor girls dormitory. Hermione blushed and shook her head.

"I didn't mean it like that… Alright I did, but not because of _you_. Christ, I'm making a complete mess of this aren't I?"

Severus was back to looking amused as his shoulders seemed to relax and he leaned back. "I think this is the first time I've ever been propositioned in a girls dormitory," he teased. Hermione flushed.

"Nevermind," she said, "It was just an idea."

"I didn't say no."

Hermione looked up, startled to realize that he was flirting with her, and even more surprised by the fact that she liked it.

"I don't think we should," she said quickly, before his flirtations turned into something she'd really rather not do in her old school bed.

Severus chuckled and stood, extending a hand towards her and then pulling her up to stand beside him.

"Where is that Gryffindor courage I've heard so much about?" he asked.

"Tucked safely behind my studious sensibility," replied Hermione, earning another laugh and smiling despite herself.

"There," said Severus, still holding her hand in his, his thumb stroking across the back of her hand idly as he looked down at her. "If you're done mourning Potter and his pet sidekick," his face twisted into a sneer as he mentioned Harry and Ron, "I think lunch is being served in the Staff Lounge today. Professor Dumbledore asked me to show you the way."

"Oh, thank you," said Hermione, disengaging her hand from his and stepping back just slightly. "I'll just be a minute longer."

Severus watched her for several moments before he sighed once and nodded sharply, his demeanor changing from casual to formal in an instant as he seemed to switch characters in front of her, going from the husband she was learning to exchange somewhat normal conversation with, to the Professor who was as rigid as he was unapproachable. "Very well," he said, "I'll be waiting below." And he left her alone once more, standing in the middle of the room. She took one last glance around, realizing that this might be the last time she would ever stand there. Next year, if the ministry had not fallen, she would no longer be a student. And if it had fallen… Well, she wouldn't be rooming with Lavender and Parvati in any case.

She thought of the rooms Professor Dumbledore had shown her the day before. She was to be housed in the dungeons, just down the hall from Severus behind a portrait of a waif-like witch in slytherin green. Her quarters had not seemed as comfortable as her husband's, though it hardly seemed to matter as there was a door in her spare sitting room which led directly to his. Dumbledore had apparently wanted to make it easier for the two of them to communicate and had installed the entryway without consulting Severus.

Hermione sighed, pushing all thoughts of the door out of her mind as she left the dormitory behind. There was no sense in worrying about things now. Her course was set, and all she could really hope to do was keep it without too much damage to herself or to the people she cared about.


	22. Midlothian

**A/N: Happy not-quite-but-almost-so-close-enough Thursday! Beta Love: FaceofPoe.**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two: Midlothian**

 **July 5, 1997**

The castle was Medieval, Hermione was sure of it. As they walked past the outer walls and through a large, empty courtyard towards the impressive, stone-faced keep which dominated the hill, she tried to catalogue all of the architectural features she could name. Gate house. Parapets. Towers. Battlements. Turrets. As it turned out, she wasn't overly familiar with Medieval architecture and she was forced to finish her assessment as they made their way into the keep.

The inside of the castle was at odds with its exterior. Perhaps once long ago, it had been decorated with rushes and flame torches, but now it was furnished much the same as the Malfoy residence, despite being six-hundred kilometers or more to the north in Midlothian.

"This castle has been the home of the Averys for several hundred years now." Hermione jumped just slightly at the sound of Severus's voice. She had nearly forgotten he was at her side, but as she looked up and took in his aristocratic demeanor and black dress-robes, she was reminded quite viscerally of his presence. He was handsome in his finery, his expression one of pleasant confidence as he looked down at her. Tonight he was not just the Death Eater, Severus Snape, but her husband as well, and she was surprised by how much the merging of the two roles pleased her.

In the two weeks since the end of term, she and Severus had spent countless hours together. While she had been studying ceaselessly for her upcoming NEWTs, she had done so in his sitting room, often while he had brewed in the lab or sat beside her on the sofa reading. As Severus was one of only three professors who had stayed at the school over the summer (the others being Professor Trelawney and Hagrid), they had taken to eating meals together in his quarters, though Hermione was always careful to leave through the entrance into her own bare rooms. During their time together, they had become more comfortable in one another's presence. Hermione had found him an invaluable resource when studying both Potions and Defense, and had even convinced him to duel her so that she could practice her shielding spells (which he had _not_ been able to penetrate). Of course, academics had not been the only topics they had explored in conversation. As the bond demanded renewal, they had enjoyed the pleasures of intimacy, spending time afterwards in his bed discussing her love of schedules or his enjoyment of Shakespearean sonnets. She had convinced him in one of his more playful moments to read aloud Sonnet 130. That particular experience had ended with a second round of lovemaking.

"Hermione?" He said her name quietly, drawing her attention back to him as she shook off the thoughts of the time they had spent together.

"Sorry," she said, looking around her at the keep's furnishings once more, "You said this belongs to the Averys?"

"Belonged, I suppose," shrugged Severus. "There aren't any left to claim it now, so the Dark Lord has made it his home."

Hermione continued to look around as they walked through a large hall and towards a pair of heavy looking double doors. Was this where her mother had grown up then? Had a young Annora Avery walked through this same room, her feet padding across the expensive carpet, her fingers brushing over vibrant tapestries as she went? They reached the doors before she could put much thought into what her mother's childhood might have been like in this place, and as she centered her thoughts on the task at hand, Severus thrust his way through the entrance and into the room beyond, his hand on Hermione's elbow as he guided her along with him.

They were in a ballroom. It was large, but not so vast as to make the throng of one hundred or so people within seem small. The floors were patterned marble and the walls were covered almost completely in portraits framed by gilded wood. Above the dance floor two magnificent chandeliers floated freely, lit by hundreds of flickering magical lights.

As they entered the room, all movement ceased and the orchestra playing on the small dais to their left grew quiet as the room stilled. Every face seemed to turn first towards Hermione and Severus, and then towards the Dark Lord who sat at the opposite end of the room on a jet black throne. Voldemort nodded once and the room burst into action once more, the orchestra playing a waltz and the men and women in attendance dancing and conversing freely.

Hermione watched her feet as they walked through the crowd and to Voldemort's side. Her skirt was large but with every step the tip of one high-heeled shoe would emerge and she made it a point to keep her eyes downcast until they were are the foot of the throne upon which the Dark Lord had presented himself.

"My Lord," said Severus from beside her, bowing deeply, "It has been too long since we have been in your presence."

"Come, Severusss, you know you are needed elsewhere. Tell me, what gifts has my spy brought me after his long absence?" Voldemort sounded amused tonight, indulgent even. Hermione dared a glance up at him and took in the resplendent robes of Slytherin green he wore. She thought the color made him look even more snakelike.

"Dumbledore has left Hogwarts, My Lord," said Severus, straightening up again. Voldemort hissed as the Headmaster's name but waved for him to continue. "And the Order intends to move Potter three weeks from now, on the twenty-seventh. They think to surprise you by moving the boy early."

"And will you be participating in the brat's relocation?" asked Voldemort. Severus sneered and shook his head.

"No, My lord. My animosity towards the boy is well known. I have not been assigned to protect his home or to participate in moving him."

"And where will they take him?"

"I cannot say, My Lord. Dumbledore prefers to keep his many operations separate."

"And you, Hermione?" The Dark Lord turned his gaze on Hermione for the first time that night and she felt a desire to wilt in his presence. She pushed back the feeling and straightened her spine instead, tilting her chin up and focusing on Voldemort's slitted nostrils. "Where do you think Potter will run to when the protection of his family fails?"

She did not answer, but the Dark Lord did not require an answer. His cold hand gripped her chin, tilting it up further until his red eyes locked on hers and he began to delve into her mind. Her thoughts flew by more quickly than she could make sense of, and after what seemed like the barest of moments, Voldemort withdrew.

"The Weasley hovel," He said, and Hermione kept her face a stony mask.

"Wherever they take him, I think there is little chance of capturing the boy once he is there," said Severus, ignoring Hermione and focusing on Voldemort instead. "Dumbledore will level every protection on the boy and his new hiding hole. If he is to be disposed of I think during his transport will be our opportunity." Voldemort looked away from Hermione and back to Severus as he spoke, nodding and looking thoughtful.

"No doubt the boy will travel by broom, if Dumbledore is as wary of the Ministry as he should be," mused the Dark Lord.

"Are you actually close to taking it over?" asked Hermione before she could think better of it. Voldemort turned his glittering gaze on her as she spoke, his cruel mouth curving into a humorless smile.

"Oh yes," he said, "The Ministry of Magic will be mine before the start of the next Hogwarts term." He turned back to Severus as he spoke again. "You will become Headmaster, naturally."

"You honor me," said Severus, bowing his head.

"I reward you for many years of faithful service," dismissed Voldemort, looking back at Hermione. "You will find that I am not so selfish as Dumbledore has painted me," he told her. "I am not incapable of sharing the wealth of prizes which fate has bestowed upon me. This house, for example," he waved a hand around at the splendid ballroom, "was once the Averys'. I think you should have it now."

"Have the house?" said Hermione, sounding more incredulous than she would have liked. Voldemort chuckled and nodded.

"Yesss," he breathed, "A gift. I trust you will find it more satisfactory than my last."

A vision of Avery dead in his own blood and piss flashed before her eyes but Hermione shoved it back, looking instead around the room which was apparently hers now. If Voldemort was as firmly entrenched within the Ministry as he seemed to believe, she had no doubt the deed to the castle would be in her name come morning, and despite her horror at how little he thought of murdering a man and then bequeathing his property, she was impressed. This was, after all, her mother's childhood home and the site of a family history she would be lying to say she was not interested in.

"It's lovely," she said honestly after a long silence, stopping just short of actually thanking him. Still, Voldemort seemed satisfied by her response and nodded once.

"It is nothing," he said, "compared to what I will give you once we have won this little war. When I am in power, Hermione, you will want for nothing. All of the knowledge, all of the history you crave will be yours." She allowed herself to imagine for a moment what such a future would be like, to have access to not only the Hogwarts library, but the all of the amassed knowledge of the Ministry and the wizarding families who would follow them… to be for once not ridiculed for her blood, but revered… It was a tempting picture, and as she forced it away she thought instead of the cost. This same man who would give her so much had been plotting the murder of her best friend just minutes before. He was a murderer, and no matter how tempting the perks of following him might be, the reality of what he had planned was still evil.

"Now go," said Voldemort to the pair of them, "Enjoy the ball. My friends are all eager to make my daughter's acquaintance. You have kept her to yourself too much, Severusss."

"I wish I could say that I regretted it, My Lord," Severus answered, taking Hermione's hand in his and touching his lips to the back of it. Voldemort chuckled indulgently and waved them off.

"I will see you again soon, Hermione," he said in parting, and Severus swept her into the crowd.

He led her to a bench on the opposite side of the room and helped her to sit.

"Stay here," he ordered brusquely, and Hermione had to remind herself of where they were to keep from snapping back at him. Instead, she simply arched a brow in response and watched him go to the nearby table and back again, bringing with him a small glass filled with what looked like punch. He handed it to her and she drank, savoring the flavor and then setting the glass beside her on the bench.

"How long do we have to stay?" she asked, looking up at him as he watched the crowd broodingly.

He shrugged. "Until it's over," he answered. "It would hardly do for the guest of honor to leave her party early."

"The guest of- Severus you're not serious?" Eyes twinkling, Severus looked down at her as she rose to stand beside him.

"I really am. Why do you think there are so many people here?"

Hermione looked around the ballroom, taking note of the many faces she didn't recognize from previous meetings and realizing as she did that she had only ever seen a portion of the attendees before.

"These aren't all Death Eaters?" she asked, voice low. Severus shook his head.

"No. Imperiused Ministry officials, financial backers, families of the inner circle." As he spoke, she caught sight of a familiar face and frowned.

"Umbridge. I seriously doubt they had to imperius _her_." Severus's eyes skimmed the crowd until he found her, after which they narrowed.

"No," he conceded, "she came of her own free will. Shall we pay her a visit?"

"Why would we want to- Severus, wait!" Before she could argue, he was leading her to where the toad faced woman stood speaking with an equally squat red-headed Death Eater Hermione didn't recognize.

"Amycus. Dolores," he said, voice mild as he faced first the man and then Umbridge herself.

"Severus," nodded the man, his eyes moving from her husband to Hermione herself and then wandering lasciviously down her body. Hermione flushed and stiffened. She hadn't thought she would have to worry about looks like that tonight, not with the dress she had chosen. The front was perfectly modest with a high boatneck and long black sleeves which covered her arms completely. Her skirt didn't even cling, the layers of black tulle flowing to the floor instead and covering her completely. Yes, her back was left completely bare by the dress, but this fellow could hardly see that from where he stood.

"Don't look at me like that," she ordered impulsively, causing the man to startle and his eyes to widen, as if he was surprised to have been caught ogling her.

"I'm sure Mr. Carrow didn't mean to be lecherous, my dear," said Severus, sounding amused.

"No, my lady," said Carrow at once, dropping his eyes to the floor and looking uncomfortable. "Excuse me," he said, and before waiting for a response walked away.

A breathy giggle from beside them brought Hermione's attention back to the woman they had come to see. She was dressed in an awful pastel pink gown with ruffles at the collar and sleeves and there was a matching pink bow atop her head.

"I'm afraid poor Carrow lacks the manners required for such a genteel occasion," said Dolores Umbridge conspiratorially to Severus.

"Indeed," said Severus, expression unreadable as he spoke to the squat woman who had once been his co-worker. "Tell me, Dolores, how did you come by an invitation to our little gathering tonight?"

"Oh an invitation isn't such a hard thing to get ahold of if you know the right people," she dismissed. "And the Dark Lord knows how much we have in common."

"I see," said Severus. "So his politics appealed to you?"

"Very much so. He is a far more progressive thinker when it comes to making the wizarding world great again than our current minister."

"You disapprove of Scrimgeour's methods?"

Umbridge chortled and took a sip of the drink she held before answering.

"Oh Severus, I disapprove of Scrimgeour's everything. If only you could see the way he pants after that disgusting Potter brat."

"I'd hardly call Harry disgusting," said Hermione, looping her arm through Severus' as she leaned in to him and forced Umbridge to meet her gaze. _Hello, you great toad,_ she thought as she forced a smile.

"Given your unfortunate upbringing, I would hardly call you a reliable judge of character," Umbridge sniffed, looking back at Severus expectantly, as if she thought he would be pleased at her dismissal of the woman beside him. "Wouldn't you say, Severus?"

"I don't presume to think it my place to contradict anything my lord's daughter has to say," he said smoothly, and suddenly Hermione understood why Severus had dragged her over to speak with the horrid woman. She smiled in satisfaction as she squeezed his bicep once and then let go, standing up straight and palming her wand.

"But you're her _master_ ," said Umbridge, looking confused. "The Dark Lord gave her to you, did he not?"

"The Dark Lord values me far more than that," answered Hermione, drawing the awful woman's attention. Umbridge merely rolled her eyes and waved a hand in her direction.

"Please, Miss Granger. We all know your place in this regime, and it is not one of power. You're a pretty little baby meant to-."

"It's Madame Snape," interrupted Hermione pleasantly. "Though if that's too difficult for you to remember, you may call me 'my lady.'"

"My- You can't be serious." Umbridge looked back to Severus, understanding at once that Hermione was _quite_ serious when she saw the look of contempt on his face. "But she's bound to obey you!" she whinged. "She's your property!"

Hermione took a great deal of satisfaction in jabbing the tip of her wand into Dolores Umbridge's chest, letting it spark and singe the fabric there. The toady woman jumped, startled as she looked back to Hermione with wide eyes. The thought occurred to her that in this moment, she could do whatever she wanted to Dolores Umbridge, and no one would bat an eye.

"I am no one's property," she said, voice low. "And Severus is bound to me just as I am bound to him. Now," she paused as the other woman seethed before her, noticing how quiet the people around them had become. "I had hoped you would learn not to underestimate me after your sojourn with the centaurs," Umbridge's face paled instantly at the mention of her time in the forbidden forest and she seemed to shrink where she stood, "But if you require another reminder I would be happy to provide one." She waited for Umbridge to respond as the small crowd watching them seemed to grow, until finally Hermione spoke again. "Well?"

"N-no," said Umbridge, sounding equal parts terrified and disgusted, as if her contempt for the girl threatening her was at war with her fear of what would happen if she continued to defy her.

"No what?" prompted Hermione, taking great satisfaction in the look of defeated contempt in Umbridge's eye.

"No, my lady," said Umbridge, looking down at the floor as Hermione smiled at her and pressed the tip of her wand just a bit more firmly against the other woman's chest, sending another spark through the slender bit of vinewood and causing her old Defense teacher to yelp and jump backwards as the heat burned through her dress and into her skin.

"Good," said Hermione, dropping her wand and stowing it away in her skirt. "I was beginning to think I'd have to cause a scene."

Around her, the party-goers who had stopped to watch their interaction began to laugh and Hermione watched, gratified as Umbridge scurried away, her face red and the jaunty bow atop her head askew.

At her side, Severus chuckled with the rest of the onlookers, taking Hermione's hand as Umbridge disappeared out of the ballroom's double doors and kissing it again as he had when they had taken their leave of Voldemort. Hermione looked at him fondly, finding that she enjoyed the sensation. It seemed Death Eater Severus was far less averse to public displays of affection than his more reserved counterpart, and Hermione couldn't say that she regretted the difference at the moment.

"Would you dance with me?" he asked her, keeping her hand in his as she nodded and smiled despite herself. He led her to the dance floor, and for once she did not care that she was surrounded by Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters, or that as her husband twirled her around the room, the Dark Lord looked on.


	23. High Praise

**A/N: This chapter is not safe for work. Beta Love to FaceOfPoe! And a thousand thanks to everyone reading, following, and reviewing. Hearing from you means so very much to me and never fails to brighten my day.**

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 **Chapter Twenty-Three: High Praise**

 **July 6, 1997**

His sitting room was dark when they entered, and Severus made his way immediately to the fireplace which he ignited with a casual flick of his wand. Hermione watched him move gracefully from the mantle to the sofa, sinking down onto the plush grey cushions and seeming to soak up the heat cast off by the flames. She joined him quickly, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet up under her skirt on the seat as she summoned a bottle of brandy and two glasses from his liquor cabinet.

"Be careful with that," he said, "If you break it I won't be pleased."

"Have you ever known me to be careless?"

"Says the girl who turned herself into a cat her second year."

"That was _not_ carelessness," Hermione sniffed, holding out a glass of the dark brown liquid to Severus and sipping the one she had poured for herself. "I had no idea Millicent Bulstrode had a cat."

"I think, Hermione, that that is the definition of carelessness," said Severus, sipping from his own glass as he watched her, looking amused. "Still, I trust you learned your lesson."

"I learned that I should just pluck the hair off of the next Slytherin's head before I try to impersonate them."

Severus's lips twitched and he leaned back in his seat, turning his body to face hers just slightly and looking more relaxed than she had ever seen him after a meeting with Voldemort.

"Did I do well?" she asked, feeling impulsive. She thought she knew the answer already, but she wanted to hear him say it.

"Yes, I think so. Your father was certainly impressed."

"How do you know?"

"I saw him watching as you threatened Umbridge. He seemed pleased."

"How can you tell? He doesn't have much facial expression."

Severus laughed once and leaned towards her, his eyes almost twinkling.

"He does, if you watch very closely. When his lips are a little less thin, he is not so very annoyed."

It was Hermione's turn to laugh, and she propped her elbow up on the back of the sofa, facing Severus as she rested her head on her hand.

"Where did you learn to dance like that anyway?" she asked.

"Like what?"

"Like you've been doing it for years."

"I _have_ been doing it for years."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yes, but when did you first learn to do it?"

"Dancing?"

"Obviously, Severus. Try to keep up."

"Is this how you treated your friends? No wonder you were such a swot. I can hardly imagine you'd have many people lining up to receive your insults."

"Oh shut up and answer the question."

"Say please," Severus smirked.

"I will not."

"Then you won't have your answer."

"Is this really necessary?"

"You, begging? Yes. It is."

"Fine," she sighed, exasperated. "Will you _please_ tell me where you learned to dance?"

"No, I don't think I will."

"You troll!"

Severus laughed as she pushed against his shoulder, grabbing her wrist as he turned slightly and pulled her up against him so that their chests were flush.

"Let me go," said Hermione, not really meaning it but trying to sound stern.

"Come now, you can do better than that. You sounded far more intimidating when you spoke to poor Dolores."

"'Poor Dolores'? You do remember what she did when she was at this school, don't you?"

Severus nodded, his expression seeming to dampen slightly as he released her and she settled back onto the sofa, intimately close now as they spoke.

"Yes. Which was why I thought you might like to say hello to her now that you're higher up on the food chain."

"Please," said Hermione, "I've always been higher up the food chain than that toad, she's just been too narrow minded to realize it."

"Well, I don't think she'll forget it any time in the near future. I'm sure she thought you were going to _Avada_ her right there beside the dance floor."

"I thought about it," Hermione admitted, voice low as she avoided Severus's gaze. "I don't think anyone would have stopped me."

He watched her for a moment before nodding.

"You're right," he said, "No one would have. I rather think they would have enjoyed it if you had. And the Dark Lord would have been pleased to not have to force you."

She met his gaze now, brow furrowed.

"You think he'll make me do something like that?"

"I think it's very likely. Torture at the very least. He wants you down on his level. He can't imagine anyone not enjoying the power the way he does."

"How could I possibly enjoy something like that!?" she remembered as she spoke how Severus had admitted to her that he had not disliked killing Avery and blushed. Severus was quiet for a while, sipping his brandy again before setting it down on the coffee table and answering her, his gaze still on the half empty snifter.

"At first, you will hate it. The things you will do will seem obscene to you. It will tear you apart inside… but then, you will recognize that these things are beyond your control, and you will allow yourself to sink into the role you are playing." He looked up at her. His eyes seemed haunted somehow. "And eventually, you will enjoy it, because it's that or stop, and you cannot stop."

He finished and she just stared at him, unable to break their gaze, unable to really fathom the things he was saying, but knowing as he seemed to shrink before her that this man was broken, and that the only thing she could do to help him was to join him in the darkness until they were both freed of this awful responsibility.

His gaze dropped again and she reached out a hand, taking his once more and drawing it forward impulsively.

He grew very still as she settled his hand on top of her breast. She could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of her bodice and shivered as he cupped her.

"Hermione," he said, sounding hoarse.

"I don't want to talk anymore," she interrupted. He looked up, meeting her determined gaze questioningly.

"But earlier this evening we-"

"I don't care! Are you my husband or aren't you? Do spouses normally set such rigid schedules for when they-" she did not finish her sentence because Severus's mouth crashed over hers, silencing and thrilling her at the same time. She had not realized until now that this was what she had wanted as she danced with him, bantered with him, but as his tongue delved into her mouth, she found there was nothing she wanted more than to feel him against her, above her, inside of her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, one hand twining in his hair as his free hand went to the small of her back, pressing her closer to him so that the hand he still used to massage her breast was trapped between their two chests. He kissed her passionately, his tongue sweeping over hers, his teeth biting her lower lip just hard enough to leave it swollen as she moaned against him. His kisses were fire, distracting her with their intensity and occupying her senses almost completely. When he was done, he broke the kiss, moving his mouth to her ear and whispering in a tone that sent a shiver travelling down to her core.

"Is this all you want, Hermione? Or is there more?"

"Severus…"

"Shall I make you beg, darling? Shall I make you tell me exactly what it is you want from me?"

"Please," she whined, grabbing his hand from her breast and dragging it downward to press through her skirt and against her sex. "Please don't tease me."

He chuckled as he kissed her again and then murmured against her lips, "Only because you were so very magnificent tonight, my dear." Her breath caught at his words and he smiled against her cheek as one of his hands found the zipper at her side and the other traced up and down her rib cage. He undressed her with little trouble, leaving her in the lacy black underthings she had worn beneath her dress as he stood to remove his own dress-robes. He watched her as he moved, undoing his outfit button by button, and she could hardly believe how erotic it was. The look in his eyes, the way he exposed himself to her slowly but surely until he was left in nothing at all, his hardened cock standing at attention, the dark hair surrounding it trailing up in a thin line to his chest. She wasn't sure whether she had ever taken the time to really admire him before now, but she was willing to rectify her mistake. He was magnificent. Powerfully built but thin, he had a runner's physique. His muscles were well defined but natural looking, and she shuddered in pleasure as she imagined the things he could do to her if he liked.

"Are you enjoying the view, Madame Snape?"

She licked her lips unconsciously, flicking her gaze up from his sex where it at rested and blushing as she met his gaze.

"Yes," she said defiantly, and he laughed, coming towards her and leaning over her, placing one hand on either side of her head against the back of the sofa.

"You surprise me at every turn," he mused as her breath quickened in anticipation.

"Is that a problem?" she asked, eyes sparkling now.

"No," he said, voice quite firm as he answered her. "Not in the least. I find I am… pleased, by the things I discover."

"Pleased? That is high praise indeed coming from you."

"Shall I praise you some more?" he asked her, voice low and silken. "Shall I tell you how very much I love to see your breasts teasing me from beneath that black brassier? Or that the thought of pulling that little scrap of lace from between your thighs and teasing you with my fingers until you come has me harder than I've ever been before?"

Hermione swallowed and nodded as one of his hands came down to her hip, lifting her and then turning her swiftly so that she was suddenly facing the back of the couch and her back was pressed against his chest. She could feel his hard length pressing into the small of her back and she let her eyes flutter shut as his hands wandered from her hips to her front. One made its way up to her breast, first stroking and then plucking at her nipple as his other hand settled between her thighs, moving over the fabric with firm, yet gentle motions which put a delicious pressure on her clit. And all the while he continued to murmur in her ear, telling her how beautiful she was, how very much he enjoyed the noises she was beginning to make, how soft her skin and how perfect her every response.

She came undone before she meant to, his clever fingers and his voice pushing her over the edge as she wrapped her arms around his neck behind and and her back arched as she cried out.

"There," he whispered in her ear, stroking her gently, his hands supporting her now as her legs shook, keeping her upright until she was capable of coherent thought. "Better?" he asked, and she nodded. He kissed her ear then, using one of his legs to nudge hers farther apart and bending her over in one smooth motion. She caught herself on the back on the sofa, bewildered for a moment until she felt his hand between her thighs once more. He had vanished her underwear wordlessly, and she was bare to his touch. His fingers were slick against her, trailing from her still sensitive clit down her her entrance and entering just enough to tease her.

She moaned, her eyes closed as she focused on the sensation of his fingers on her flesh. And then she could feel the fronts of his thighs on the backs of hers, and his heavy length pressing gently against her as he spoke, voice strained.

"Hermione can I-"

"Yes, God yes. Please, Severus-" He was inside of her before she had finished saying his name, and she gasped. He was heat and strength and fire and she cried out as he plunged deep, knocking her hips forward and hissing out in pleasure as he paused, making sure it wasn't too much for the witch beneath him.

"Please…" she begged again, enjoying this new angle, this new sensation more than she could describe. He obliged, drawing out until just the tip of him was still in her, and then pushing back inside of her slowly until she was completely full once more. He continued like that, keeping his pace slow and steady as the pleasure she had experienced once already began to mount, driving her wild with need as she began to push back against him in time with his thrusts. His hand wrapped around her as he leaned forward, putting a brilliant pressure at the front of her slit as his other hand grasped the back of the sofa next to hers. She could feel his chest against her back and was more aroused by the sensation than she thought possible.

His movements began to speed up as her own pleasure increased, and as his deft fingers played continuously across her clitoris she felt that sweet tension mounting, her whole consciousness narrowing in on the promise of relief as he kissed the exposed nape of her neck.

"Severus, I'm going to- I need to- I-" And she lost all capabilities of speech as she came around him, her back arching as she whimpered and then cried out in relief. As the world spun around her, Severus thrust once more and then stilled, spilling himself inside of her as he groaned against the side of her neck.

They collapsed onto the sofa after that, both breathing deeply as their hearts raced and they came back to themselves. By the time Hermione was finally aware enough of her surroundings to realize what was going on, Severus was lifting her into his arms and walking with her towards the bedroom. She said nothing, just reveled in the feel of his arms around her, of his shoulder solid against her cheek.

"Give me a moment," he said, laying her down on the bed and walking towards his bathroom. He returned with a damp rag and, climbing up onto the bed beside her and running it between her thighs which were sticky with the evidence of his pleasure. The cloth was warm against her skin and she let her eyes flutter shut as he finished, setting it aside and pulling her closer so that he could lay with and arm draped comfortably over her.

"You're magnificent," he whispered into her ear as she began to drift off into sleep. And she smiled, grabbing his hand and squeezing it softly as she snuggled back into him.

She awoke some time later. Light was streaming in through the window under the Black Lake and in the distance she thought she saw a pair of mermaids swimming by at a leisurely pace. She managed to move out from beneath the weight of Severus's arm and turn to face him. She was reminded once more as she watched him sleep of how much younger he appeared when his brow was not furrowed and he was not scowling. When he laughed, he looked youthful, but now-in sleep- she thought she could glimpse the young man who had chosen to follow Voldemort in his youth, who had thought such a life was his best option. A twinge of sadness at the childhood she imagined he had led struck her then. As a child he had been beaten, that much she knew. He had called his father a drunkard and an abuser, and she knew that at school things had not gotten much better. How lonely he must have been, to think that life at the feet of a Dark Lord would be better than life on his own.

He sighed in his sleep and a smile twitched at the corner of his lip, involuntary but beautiful. He was an attractive man, Hermione thought. She was surprised more women didn't see it. She supposed his forbidding demeanor served to ward off unwanted attentions, but when he was unguarded she could examine the regal sweep of his brows, his high cheekbones, and his full, inviting lips. She remembered the feel of those lips on her, the way he had made her feel with his words and his hands and other parts which lay safely beneath the bedsheets. He was a competent lover. No, competent was not an enthusiastic enough word, she thought. He was skilled, applying the same focus with which he approached potion-making to his perusal of her body. She could not imagine any other man to have been so patient with her inexpertise, so considerate of her own pleasure. And she did not just admire his physicality.

Since school had ended she had gotten to know him more personally. They had not been confined to illicit liaisons in the dead of night, and the casual company they had begun to keep revealed him to be more than simply intelligent. He was witty and had varied interests which often overlapped with her own. He had a way of stating his opinion which was at once a challenge and a concession that her own beliefs might diverge from his. He had a surprisingly beautiful singing voice and hummed under his breath when he was brewing. He was a brilliant dancer and a kind man when he was not acting the Death Eater in the presence of his Master.

Hermione smiled and thought that if she was bound to him forever, it might not be such a very bad thing. There were worse companions, ones who couldn't hold a conversation with her the way he could, men who did not care whether she enjoyed their love-making… men who would take advantage of the archaic bond between them for their own pleasure. Yes, she was happy to have been bound to Severus Snape.

"Hermione?" His voice was husky with sleep and he did not open his eyes as he spoke, startling her from her musing.

"Hmm?" she sounded, blushing and realizing he had probably woken up the moment she had jostled him.

"Go back to sleep."

She smiled despite her embarrassment, leaning her head forward just enough so she could kiss the tip of his nose lightly, and then settling back into his embrace where she was lulled to sleep by the sound of his heart beating.


	24. NEWTs

**A/N: Hello everyone, and welcome back. I almost didn't post this chapter today, because I'm binge reading Shayalonnie's magnificent _Debt of Time_ , a story you should all go read immediately after this chapter. It's a Sirmione, and it's 800,000 words long (mine won't be nearly that long, sorry), and it is honestly one of the most beautiful fan fictions I've ever read, and I've been reading fan fiction for ten years, folks. This is my second read through and I am even MORE in love with it than I was the first time. So if I fall behind on my writing completely, you'll know who to blame. **

**One thousand thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and followed this story since the last chapter. I am honestly amazed at the response it has received. And a special thanks to the lovely guest reviewers I can't respond to via PM. Your reviews are seen and appreciated.**

 **Beta Love: FaceofPoe (if you're into MCU, you should check out her latest over at AO3. It's perfection.)**

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 **Chapter Twenty-Four: N.E.W.T.s**

 **July 19, 1997**

Hermione spent the two weeks following her encounter with Umbridge revising for the N.E.W.T.s and ignoring anything else happening around her. She had not, unfortunately, been able to skip visiting the Avery's castle in Midlothian with Severus the previous weekend for a meeting with Voldemort and his most trusted followers, but she had managed to get herself relegated to the keep's massive library as they plotted, and she had spent her time there perusing an ancient looking copy of _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_ that she found on one of the many shelves. She had been disconcerted to find there that, in addition to being related to the Gaunts and the Averys, she was also cousins to the Malfoys, Blacks, Lestranges, and Weasleys. In fact, she hadn't been able to find a family in the Sacred Twenty-Eight that she wasn't related to if she looked back far enough.

Still, that small side trip outside of Severus's rooms had been only a few hours long, and aside from that she had spent nearly every waking moment on his sofa with one textbook or another, practicing spells, studying theory, and scribbling out practice essays on long sheets of parchment. Which was where Severus found her the Saturday before she was set to take the N.E.W.T.s, her legs folded beneath her, the coffee table made magically taller so that she could use it as an effective desk, and her hair in complete disarray.

"Have you eaten anything today?" he asked her, his eyes moving from the mess of books and papers in front of her to the ink stain on her cheek from when she had fallen asleep writing earlier.

"What?" asked Hermione, distracted by the history she was reading. She didn't know nearly enough about the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 for her comfort. If one of the questions were to ask her to name each of the aurors lost in the third wave of attacks on the ministry during the second year of the uprising, she wouldn't be able to answer. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to find a text as comprehensive as she would have liked, and so she had been forced to look through ministry records dating back to the specific time period she was researching, cross-referencing ministry employment records with death records and-

"I asked if you'd had anything to eat. You look terrible." Hermione startled at the sound of his voice again and looked up at him, focusing on his face, which wore an expression of definite displeasure.

"Oh. Umm… Tea, I think, and some toast. Just a couple of hours ago for breakfast," she said.

"A couple of hours ago?"

"Yes."

"Hermione, it's almost nine o-clock in the evening." He sighed, sounding exasperated as her eyes widened and she looked out of the window and into the Black Lake, realizing as she did that the sun was beginning to set.

"That can't be right," she said, checking her watch and then frowning.

"Come on," said Severus, waving his wand and sending all of her books and papers flying across the room into two neat stacks on his work table in the potions lab.

"Hey! I still need those!"

"No," said Severus, glaring down at her, "What you _need_ is to eat and then rest. I don't think you've had a full night's sleep since you started obsessing like this."

"I'm not obsessing, I'm studying," said Hermione defensively. Honestly, Severus had been a good student in school, didn't he _understand_ the amount of effort it took to keep top marks?

"Stop being such an insufferable swot and eat!" said Severus, his voice raised now to a level she had not heard in quite a while as he pointed with one hand to the kitchen table behind her. She turned in her seat, realizing as she spotted the dining set that he had laid out a meal for her. As she caught sight of the chicken and greens and potatoes piled high on the plate, her stomach gave a loud growl.

"Maybe just for a little while," she conceded, and got up to follow him to the table. They ate in companionable silence, and by the time she was done, Hermione had devoured the entire plate of food and then gone back for seconds and pudding which, much to her delight, was a chocolate layered cake provided by the Hogwarts house elves.

"Thank you," she said as she leaned back in her chair, satisfied and finally free of the headache that had been plaguing her for the better part of the day. "I think I'll be able to focus much better now."

"I should hope so," said Severus, watching her with one hand on his glass of wine and the other tapping the top of the table. "You'll need it for what I've got planned this evening."

"Severus, I can't possibly do anything but revise right now. I've only got until Monday morning to-"

"If you don't know it by now, then you'll have no use for it," he said, setting down his wine glass as he stood and coming around the table to stand beside her, one hand outstretched in her direction. "And how do you expect you'll perform if you try to take the exams without having renewed the bond recently?" There was heat in his eyes as he asked the question, and a desperate sort of longing which she felt rising within herself to match.

She hesitated for just a moment longer, casting a glance at the little workspace she had developed for herself and calculating just how much more she could cram into her brain before it simply exploded. Finally, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her past the sofa and into the bedroom. There he was proven very right: what he had planned took a great deal of focus indeed.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

"Tell me about this," she said, tracing the black mark on his left forearm and looking up at him from where she lay, her cheek against his chest. It was early morning and they had both woken to the sun filtering through the water and glass and into the room around them.

He glanced down at her, his expression unreadable as he watched her finger move around the edges of the Dark Mark on his skin.

"What about it?"

"Why did you take it?"

He looked up at the ceiling and she thought she had offended him until he spoke.

"Because I couldn't see any other way to get what I wanted. What I thought I needed."

"What did you want?"

Severus drew his arm up and away from her, covering his a eyes with it and sighing.

"I wanted what all young men want, Hermione."

"A new broom?" she teased. He laughed in response, sending a thrill of satisfaction through her.

"Hardly," he said, "I was a fair flier, but my deepest desires weren't quite so mundane as that."

"What did you want then? Power?"

"Yes, but if I'm being honest, the power was just a means to an end."

"Severus, you're being awfully vague."

"Yes, well, you're being exceedingly nosey."

She huffed and rolled onto her back, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and huffing.

"You could have just said you didn't want to answer," she said. Severus turned on his side to face her, his eyes narrowed as he watched her begin to close herself off.

"It's not that I don't want to answer- alright, I _don't_ want to answer," he said as she shot him a skeptical look, "But the larger factor here is that I'm not sure you really want to know."

Her heart sunk at his words and she wondered what sort of awful secret he was keeping that he was afraid to tell her. Could his reasons for having joined the Death Eaters have been so vile that it would affect her more than watching him kill Avery or bowing and scraping to the Dark Lord? Could she risk not knowing something so dark about the husband to whom she was bound for the rest of her life?

"Tell me," she said.

Severus sighed and rolled to his back once more, covering his eyes again and tensing his jaw. Hermione waited in silence for almost a minute before facing him and prodding, "Severus, tell me!"

"Alright," he growled, "If you must know, I joined because of a girl."

"A girl?" her voice was shrill even to her own ears, and her eyes were widened in disbelief. _That_ was his deep dark secret? The thing he had been afraid to tell her? He was joined up with Voldemort because of a _girl_?

"Yes," he answered tersely, his eyes still covered as he refused to look at her.

Hermione laughed despite her very best effort to keep a straight face and at the sound of her mirth Severus removed his arm and glared over at her.

"Stop that immediately," he ordered, "it is _not_ funny."

"Oh Severus, I thought it would be so much worse than some teenage crush," she admitted.

Severus let out a frustrated sound and sat up in the bed, glaring at her now as his hands clenched in the fabric of the dark blue duvet.

"Stop it!" he hissed, silencing her with the angry tone of his voice. "I knew telling you would be a mistake."

"Oh Sev," she said, sitting up beside him and moving closer until her arms were around his waist and her riotous curls were splayed across his chest. "I'm sorry. It's only, I thought it would be something so much worse. I thought maybe you joined Voldemort because you thought he had the right idea about Muggle-borns or something. Honestly, I'm relieved it was because of some girl. I mean, it's not as if whatever it was with her lasted. And she couldn't have been that important to you if you turned spy so soon after joining. The only thing I could imagine that would make it at all bothersome would be if the girl were Bellatrix." And then because the thought was troublesome, she bit her lip and asked, "It's not her is it?"

"I'd sooner stick my cock in a banshee," he growled.

"There we are then. It's not a big deal at all. What was the girl's name?"

He swung his legs out of the bed, putting his feet on the bare floor and resting his elbows on his knees as he sighed and said a name so softly she thought she must have misheard.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked, confused now. He couldn't have said the name she thought she had heard. He cleared his throat and spoke only marginally louder, but it was enough to leave no doubt as to the girl who had held his youthful affections.

"Lily Evans," he said.

"I'm sorry, did you just say, Lily Evans?"

He nodded. and Hermione's eyes widened as she sat up, bringing the sheet up with her to cover her bare chest.

"As in Lily Evans Potter?"

"Yes." His voice was hoarse and biting, and she could tell that this was not a conversation he had wanted to have.

"Oh." She couldn't think what else to say. She had known he had been a contemporary of the Potters, of course, and that Harry's dad and his friends hadn't been particularly kind to Severus… but she had had no idea that he had been anything more than friends with the woman who had died for her son.

" _Oh_?" he echoed incredulously, looking at her over his shoulder with an angry expression. Hermione cleared her throat and then spoke again.

"Were you and she… an item?" Severus looked back down into his lap and shook his head. Seeing that he wasn't going to offer anything else, Hermione spoke again. "Then how… I mean, why was _she_ the reason you joined the Death Eaters?"

By the time he responded, she was positive she had offended him and that he had decided never to speak to her again, but the sound of his voice, low and raw, pierced the silence before she could speak herself.

"We were friends before school. Best friends. And then we came to Hogwarts and things changed. I was sorted into Slytherin, and she went to Gryffindor. Then Potter and his gang decided I was an easy target, and everything spiraled from there. We were close still for a few years. And then I… I did something stupid and lost her friendship. I deserved it, but I couldn't move past her…I loved her."

Hermione wasn't sure why, but her heart clenched at the statement and she felt quite annoyed at the thought of a young Lily Potter who had spurned the attention of her black haired best friend. Almost simultaneously, she thought of Ron and acknowledged that perhaps her sudden dislike of the woman was unfair.

" She didn't feel the same, of course. And then she married Potter, and I was so very angry. I wanted to hurt him and to take her back. By force if necessary. I realized my mistake too late."

He didn't need to fill in the blanks. Hermione knew the story after that, and she could imagine how he must have felt, being betrayed by the man he had trusted to fulfill his desires. Losing the woman he had loved since childhood. That he perhaps loved still. Something in her chest ached at that thought and her eyes stung as she looked away from where he sat at the edge of the bed. Despite herself, she could not keep from asking the question now echoing in her mind.

"Do you still…" She couldn't bring herself to finish the question, not when his answer might shatter any chance of future happiness she might have thought to find with him.

He answered anyway with a shake of his head as he turned to face her, reaching out with one arm to draw her close and hold her in his warm embrace.

"No," he said into her ear. "She is a memory. That's all."

She didn't understand why his answer relieved her, or why when he wrapped her in his arms she felt as though her heart might burst. It shouldn't hurt this much, she thought, imagining him in love with someone else. It wasn't as if they were a love match themselves. Up until a month ago they had hardly been able to stand one another, and even now they would not be together if it weren't for the bond Voldemort had wrought between them. Still, the thought of a younger Severus, heartbroken and confused, made her own heart ache in sympathy, and the thought that he might still love some other woman… she didn't care to examine the mess of emotions that thought rioted within her. They felt like the beginnings of something important and completely out of her control, and that was the last thing she needed at the moment.

She closed her eyes and pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as she breathed in his scent. Sandalwood, rosemary, and a masculine musk all his own. She could stay there for hours if he would let her, breathing in tandem and revelling in the fact that in her arms, the normally stern professor was just a man.

"Let's go back to sleep," she said after several minutes of being held by him. Severus just nodded and scooted down the bed so that he could lay his head comfortably on the pillow, still keeping her cradled against him, his face in her hair as their breathing slowed and they drifted off together.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

She had failed everything, she was sure of it. The past week had been perhaps the most gruelling of her life. Her days had been spent with Ministry examiners, writing essays and performing spells, and by the end of it she had been both physically and mentally exhausted. For the most part, Severus had let her be between tests, not commenting when she stayed up at night to study, but leaving a tray with sandwiches and pastries where she could see it so that she didn't forget to eat again. By the time she had finished her last test, they had both begun to notice the effects of their bond but Hermione had been far too tired to do anything more than kiss him on the cheek and collapse into the bed they shared, falling promptly asleep. They spent Saturday morning in bed together after that, reacquainting themselves after a week of abstinence and going over all of the questions Hermione thought she had probably lost points on.

"I think I over-stirred the Draught of Living Death. It was a little _too_ clear."

"If it was any sort of clear you'll receive top marks," said Severus, "The examiners aren't nearly as exacting as I am."

"More's the pity," said Hermione, "I think if their standards were a bit higher more students might actually put effort into their studies when they're at school."

"I think you're overestimating the drive of your fellow students."

"Not anymore."

"I beg your pardon?"

"They're not my fellow anything anymore. I'm officially a graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy," she looked at him and flashed a smile. "Don't I already look so much more mature?"

"You certainly look more full of yourself," he answered, though the corner of his mouth twitched as he spoke.

Hermione grinned wickedly and used one hand to tug the sheet covering her down to her waist, baring her breasts to his gaze, which focused promptly on her pebbled nipples.

"What was that?" she said.

"Hmm?" his gaze didn't leave her breasts and she laughed, just as a loud popping noise echoed throughout the room, turning her laugh into a shriek and making Severus whirl around to face the source of the noise, his wand, which he stored beneath his pillow, in his hand and pointed forward threateningly.

"Pippy is sorry!" cried a wizened looking little creature which cowered on the floor beside the bed wearing nothing but a cleanly pressed pillow case cinched at the waist with some twine.

"What the hell are you doing here?" shouted Severus, glaring at the now quivering house-elf as it dropped to its hands and knees before them, pressing its wrinkled forehead against the floor.

"Pippy is such a bad elf!" it wailed, lifting its head and banging it against the wooden planks with an accompanying thud. "Frightening the master and mistress so! Pippy will iron her hands and sew her ears together! She will!" The little elf continued to smack her head against the floor, a dull crack echoing with every strike until Hermione finally came to her senses and sprang out of the bed, the sheet wrapped around her as she moved.

"Stop it! Oh please stop!" she cried, approaching the house elf and dropping to her knees beside it. The creature stopped moving immediately, still sobbing as she prostrated herself in front of Hermione, her little shoulders heaving.

"You poor thing," said Hermione. Behind her, Severus scoffed.

"Poor thing? That fucking elf came into my room unannounced and-"

"Our room," corrected Hermione, as if that somehow changed things. She turned back to the elf. "Pippy?" she said.

The house elf looked up, her tennis ball shaped eyes glistening with tears as she sniffled and said in a quiet squeak, "Yes, Mistress?"

"Did you need something?" asked Hermione. "Did the kitchens send you up?" The Hogwarts house-elves had been supplying them with meals delivered directly to the kitchen table three times a day lately, though Hermione had never actually seen one of the elves in the room. She had assumed they used the same magic that allowed them to serve the entire Great Hall at once.

"Pippy is not from the kitchen, Mistress," said the elf, seeming to have calmed herself somewhat and clamboring to her feet so that she was eye-level with Hermione. "Pippy is a gift for the Mistress and the Master."

"A gift? Who would send me a-" Hermione fell silent and then froze as the answer occurred to her. She knew only one person who would ever consider sending her a living being, a man who had made a habit lately of giving her 'gifts' that turned her stomach.

Behind her, Severus moved from the bed to stand at her back, looking down at the elf imperiously.

"The Dark Lord sent you?" he asked.

The house elf nodded, confirming the truth Hermione had arrived at on her own.

"Very well," said Severus, "you may begin by cleaning these rooms, after which you will excuse yourself."

"She will not," said Hermione at once, standing to face her husband. "I can't possibly let this happen. I will not own another living-"

"You will do as your father has requested," Severus snapped.

Behind them, Pippy squeaked and burst into tears.

"Now do you see what you've done?" hissed Hermione, kneeling back beside the elf and patting her shoulder.

"What _I've_ done?"

"Yes, you great big beast," said Hermione, trying to calm the emotional creature in front of her.

Severus scoffed and strode to the armoire, proceeding to dress himself as Hermione finally succeeded in drying the little elf's tears.

"Mistress mustn't send Pippy away," said the little creature, "Pippy is so pleased to be given to Missy Hermione! She is seeing her at the keep and knowing she is kind and sweet, just like missy Nora."

"Missy Nora? You mean Annora?"

The house elf nodded and Hermione's eyes widened.

"You know my mother?"

She nodded again and spoke in a voice which might have been sly if it had not been so full of emotion. "Pippy knows her. Can tell Missy about her if she promises not to free her. Pippy is a good elf!"

"Mistress will not free you," said Severus, rolling his eyes, "Because Mistress understands that serving her would make you immeasurably happy, and that giving you clothes would likely mean your slaughter at the hands of the Dark Lord."

Hermione's eyes widened as she looked up at Severus, now fully dressed in a crisp linen shirt, black slacks, and black oxfords.

"Oh Missy Hermione is just as kind, just as sweet as her mother," sobbed Pippy, throwing herself at Hermione and wrapping her thin arms around her shoulders. "So sweet, so kind!" Severus watched in amusement until at last the elf released Hermione and bowed low. "Pippy is cleaning now!" she cried happily, and with another loud crack she was gone, leaving a small vellum envelope in her place.

"He's horrible," said Hermione once she had gone. Severus only shrugged.

"As far as gifts go, this is not his worst. Besides, if she belonged to the Averys then she is yours by right of blood anyhow."

"I don't want a house elf! It's _wrong_ , Severus!" she said as she picked up the envelope Pippy had left behind and got to her feet, opening it and withdrawing a thin piece of parchment folded in half.

"We don't have the luxury of philosophizing over house-elves," Severus dismissed. "What's that?"

"A letter," answered Hermione blandly, "From Voldemort I'd guess." She was proven correct as she unfolded the note and began to read.

 _Hermione,_

 _I trust you will make good use of this gift I am sending to you, and that you will not find it so very disappointing._

 _I require your presence and that of your husband tomorrow evening. We've some business to attend to, and I think a stay in your ancestral home can only benefit you. Pack for the rest of the summer._

 _Your Father,_

 _LV_

She passed the note to Severus who read it and frowned, looking up at her as if to gauge her reaction before speaking.

"We'll have your apprenticeship postponed," he said. "I'll ask Dumbledore to write Slughorn and tell him you're pushing it back. He'll say you're suffering some sort of mental breakdown after having misquoted Brugnar the Bellicose in your History of Magic exam."

Hermione ignored his attempt at humor, keeping her face carefully blank as she responded. "I guess this is it then, the part where I make him believe I'm his."

Severus' expression sobered and he nodded. He held a hand out towards her then, taking her into his arms as she suppressed the horror welling up inside of her. She pushed it down until she couldn't feel it anymore, shoving it into a cage deep within herself and locking it away.

Outwardly, she sighed and then nodded once, disengaging from her husband's embrace and beginning to dress for the day.


	25. Playing The Part

**A/N: A warning to you all that I go on vacation next week, and that as of today, my posts will become less frequent. I am aiming for once a week on Mondays, though there might be a lag at the end of this month until I can get caught up on my writing. Thank you once again to everyone who has reviewed, followed, favorited and read this story. There's a lot coming up that I am both excited and nervous to write, and your words give the the confidence to delve into the more challenging scenes and do them justice.**

 **Beta Love to FaceofPoe, who is indispensable and listens to me whine and obsess over plot points and bits of dialogue, prodding me in the right direction with a sharp stick when it is necessary (which is often).**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Five: Playing the Part**

 **July 27, 1997**

When they arrived at the castle, they were given a set of rooms so sumptuous Hermione might have mistaken them for the master suite had she not known better. Upon being left on their own by the wrinkled old head elf who had showed them their quarters, she and Severus had set to work. They had swept the rooms, looking for any monitoring spells which might have been placed and, finding none, had proceeded to fortify the rooms with their own protective charms and wards. Hermione had been worried that Voldemort might see this as an act of defiance or of secrecy- which it was- but Severus had assured her that such enchantments would seem natural given Avery's attack on her previously. The Dark Lord was a paranoid ruler, and paranoia in his servants was not something he would find suspect.

And so Hermione found herself in her quiet room that night, lying face up on the bed in a set of casual robes Severus had helped her pick out at Madame Malkins that morning (because it would be ridiculous to tempt the Dark Lord's ire by dressing as a muggle any longer), listening to the quiet tick of the clock on the nightstand beside her. Severus had gone with a party of his fellow Death Eaters and Voldemort himself to attempt to intercept Harry as he was being moved from Privet Drive to whichever safe house the Order had decided to put him in. Hermione and Severus both assumed it would be the Burrow, but neither of them had been privy to that information. Apparently, thought Hermione bitterly, being so near to the Dark Lord meant she could no longer be trusted with sensitive Order information, even with the occlumency shields in her mind that Severus had erected and continued to renew frequently.

Sighing, she turned her face to check the time. It was a quarter past midnight. She closed her eyes and tried not to fidget.

She had hoped Severus would not be required to participate that evening, given his status as spy, but it seemed Voldemort did not foresee needing him within the Order's ranks for much longer. Severus had been told to dress and to accompany them, had even been given charge over a group of his fellows. He had, of course, acted honored, and thanked his master for the opportunity to serve him openly. Watching him there in front of Voldemort's throne, being rewarded for his service and praised by the man who was her father, Hermione had felt almost proud before flushing and shoving the emotion down deep where she would not have to examine it.

A knock at the door echoed throughout the room, causing Hermione to startle and sit upright, gripping her wand tightly and pointing it at the door.

"Enter," she called, keeping her wand trained on the entrance as the door swung inward, admitting a heavyset woman with thick black hair swept back into a tight knot at the base of her neck. The woman looked startled as she entered to be at the end of Hermione's wand, but quickly hid her own dismay and schooled her expression into neutrality.

"I am sorry to disturb you, my lady," she said, her voice soft and cautious. "I've been instructed to inform you that Mr. Snape has returned, and that you should expect his presence soon."

"Who are you?" asked Hermione bluntly, ignoring the woman's message and narrowing her eyes. She did not recognize her, and she could see no Dark Mark marring the exposed skin of her left arm.

The black-haired woman froze, her face betraying her fear as her eyes widened and her lower lip trembled. Hermione merely furrowed her brows and adjusted her grip on her wand.

"Catriona Avery," said the woman, her voice surprisingly firm despite her obvious fear.

"Avery," echoed Hermione, "You were related to Argus Avery?"

The woman nodded, her expression wary. "He is- was- my husband," she answered, flinching only slightly as she corrected her tense.

Hermione did not respond, keeping her own face carefully blank as she lowered her wand and eyed Mrs. Avery where she stood just inside the doorway.

"I see," she said at last, forcing herself to look into the eyes of the woman whose husband she had as good as killed and wondering as she did so what the daughter of Lord Voldemort would say to that.

"I hope he was kinder to you than he was to me. Personally, I found him a foul, repugnant man who deserved what he got," she said after several moments of silence, keeping her tone as level as possible despite the part of her which was protesting the taunting of a widow. The other woman's eyes flashed but all she did was nod once stiffly. Hermione cleared her throat. "Was that all?" she asked, forcing herself to sound cross now and to ignore the way the other woman trembled.

Mrs. Avery nodded and did a little half curtsey as before stepping back through the door and into the hallway. "Yes, my lady," she said, voice hoarse as she fled back down the hallway, leaving the door open behind her.

Hermione sighed and bent over, resting her elbows on her knees and putting her face in her hands. How awful of Voldemort to send her uncle's widow here to her rooms. She only wished she knew whether it had been to torture the poor woman, or to test Hermione in some capacity. Either way, she knew that she would have to be on guard with everyone during her stay at the castle. She would have to live in the role she had crafted for herself; much as Severus embraced the Death Eater within him in the Dark Lord's presence, she would have to accept and act upon each and every one of her pettiest, most self-serving impulses. Admitting to herself that deep within the walls of kindness and justice she had worked to build her whole life there lurked a dark ocean of selfish urges she could not deny, was proving to be more challenging than she had expected. No good person enjoyed facing their own inner darkness.

Severus found her there nearly an hour later, still perched on the edge of their bed, staring at the open door which he entered through and then banged closed behind him.

"You're still awake," he said, crossing to the wardrobe, his Death Eater mask in hand as he swung open the door and began to hang his garb within. Hermione nodded and watched him as he moved deliberately, undressing to his slacks and dress shirt before coming to sit beside her on the bed. His hair was pulled back and tied with a black cord to keep it out of his face.

"What happened?" asked Hermione finally, not sure she really wanted to hear the answer but unable to continue in ignorance.

"Potter escaped," he answered. Hermione sighed in relief and Severus gave her a sharp look. "Through no skill of his own. The boy remains as incompetent as ever."

"And everyone else?" she asked, sounding tentative.

"All alive," shrugged Severus, leaning back against his hands. "Except for that ridiculous snowy owl of Potter's."

"Hedwig?!" cried Hermione. Severus nodded. "But that's terrible!"

"The idiot boy should have sent it ahead if he did not wish to risk its life."

"That's an awful thing to say. It's hardly Harry's fault that you and the rest of Voldemort's thugs-"

"What did you just call me?"

Hermione flushed as Severus turned his face toward hers, his eyes glittering. She crossed her arms and scooted a bit further from him on the bed. "I called you a thug," she answered clearly, giving him her most scornful look. The expression did not seem to faze him though, because he sat up straight and reached for her, smirking. She swatted his hand away and stood up. He watched her go, looking amused at her annoyance.

"Will your judgements never cease?" he asked.

"I'm allowed to judge you for being an unsympathetic git."

"Unsympathetic? For an honest observation?"

"Yes, unsympathetic and insensitive."

"My dear," he drawled, standing and taking a step towards her, "if I'm insensitive over a bird, whatever will you think of me when you find out I cursed one of the Weasleys in a duel?"

The blood drained from Hermione's face and her eyes widened.

"You didn't."

"I most certainly did."

"What did you do?" Her voice was venomous, her stance stiff. Severus shrugged in reply.

"I only made it so their mother could tell the twins apart more easily."

"Severus tell me. What. You. Did!" She stamped her foot as she spoke, aware that her temper was perhaps childish, but unwilling to make concessions for a man who seemed pleased to have mutilated a former student. Severus shrugged indifferently once more.

"I relieved him of an ear. It's not as though he ever used it much in class. He'll hardly miss it."

"You relieved him of his- SEVERUS!"

"Yes, my pet?"

"You cut off his ear?!"

"You'd think it was yours, the way you keep repeating yourself."

She could not think what to say after that, though she was surprised that his indifference upset her more than the fact that he had maimed one of her friends. She settled for "You're awful," after which Severus quirked one brow and smirked at her, looking for all the world like the Death Eater who had entered their rooms minutes before.

"Don't look at me like that," snapped Hermione, whirling around towards the opposite wall. It was just her luck a mirror hung there, reflecting that same predatory amusement on his face back at her.

"Like what?" he inquired. Hermione blushed and tried to avoid his gaze in the looking glass.

"Like you're thinking something filthy."

Severus chuckled.

"What if I am thinking something filthy? Do you expect me to believe you'd say no on the grounds I didn't cry over Potter's owl?"

"I certainly wouldn't say yes," answered Hermione haughtily.

"I think you would," his eyes flashed and he took a single step forward, closing the distance and wrapping one arm around her waist as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "After all, you are the woman who sent her uncle's widow from the room to sob in an abandoned corridor. You've barely enough room to stand on, let alone judge from."

She whirled around, pushing his arm away and backing up until her back hit the mirror. Severus followed, leaving only the barest distance between them as he stared down at her, his gaze heated.

"What are you implying?" asked Hermione, her tone icy now as she contemplated his words. How did he know she'd been cruel to Mrs. Avery? Had he really come across her crying in a hallway somewhere after Hermione had dismissed her? Had Severus been a part of sending the woman to inform Hermione of his arrival?

"Only that for a woman capable of suspending her morals on a whim, your expectations are rather lofty."

"I'm doing what I have to, it doesn't mean I actually enjoy-"

"Don't lie to yourself, Hermione. It isn't becoming."

"Remember our rules, Severus," Hermione warned, "You're being an-"

"I don't give a damn _what_ I'm being," spat Severus, looking truly upset now, his mood shifting mercurially. "Because when you act like some sort of sanctimonious prig who's never had an impure or selfish thought in her entire life, you do us both a disservice. I will not spend my summer here being brow-beaten by a termagant wife who thinks herself better than me. You will not continue to shame me for not being the guilty spy you imagined. I told you before, Hermione, I am not a good man… and there is no stopping what we've begun. It is either embrace the darkness inside, or die."

He was right. Of course he was right. But she was cross and he was being an ass and she couldn't stand to look at him for another second, knowing that his words convicted her. She pushed past him, and he let her slip by, not turning to follow her as she fled from the room and into the hallway beyond. She walked, and then she ran, until she was at the doors of the keep's vast library.

Once she was inside, she closed her eyes and sagged against the nearest wall. Why was this so bloody difficult for her? Why hadn't she realized how challenging this path would be? When Dumbledore had presented this plan to her, why hadn't she thought it through more thoroughly, taken more time to weigh the pros and cons? She didn't doubt she would have come to the same conclusion, but at least then she would have been prepared for the necessity of embracing the darker aspects of her nature. Perhaps she would have been more accepting of Severus as he was, both the noble spy and the self-serving Death Eater.

Still, despite this lack of forethought, she knew she couldn't continue as she had been. All her feelings of guilt, of outrage, of indignance in defense of her friends… she would have to bury it deep. The sense of personal justice which had long been her companion was now nothing more than a hindrance.

Hermione sighed and forced herself to stand up straight. She was Hermione bloody Granger, and she had never failed at anything important in her life. She wasn't about to start now. If succeeding here meant being less preoccupied with morality and justice, she could let them go and focus on the task at hand. She only hoped she didn't lose sight of herself completely in the process.

She tried not to think too much more about the type of person she would have to be here in the castle as she allowed herself to explore the bookshelves around her. The library reminded her of one she had seen in a movie as a child, and she wandered through it, plucking dusty old tomes from their spots and replacing them one after another until, quite by chance, she came across a book on beauty charms and glamours which she thought might have been the same one Narcissa Malfoy had promised her before disappearing into some Order safe house with her family. She took it to a nearby settee and sat, flipping through the book's pages until she found the section on hair care and started to read.

She did not notice him until he was sitting down beside her, and to her credit, she did not scream when she saw him. She could not, however, keep herself from flinching, a reaction which seemed to please the Dark Lord.

"Bippity, Boppity, Beauty?" He read the title of the book in her hands aloud, and Hermione could not tell whether his tone was mocking or merely amused. "I had not expected you to be interested in such trivial magic," he said. Hermione swallowed before responding.

"Well, I would hardly expect you to understand, but appearances _do_ matter," she said, surprised that he was here beside her and not off somewhere having a tantrum over Harry escaping yet again.

Voldemort let out a wheezing laugh, his mouth twisting up at the corners grotesquely.

"I am not so ignorant of the fact as you might assume," he said, "there is a reason so many of my puppets are pretty."

"And yet you thought to recruit Dolores Umbridge?"

The Dark Lord looked down at her, amused. "You do not approve of the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic?"

"I approve of her as a tool, not as a party guest."

"Will you then be managing our soirees in the future? I had not realized your interests were quite so very… feminine." Voldemort looked disdainful at the word and Hermione scoffed inwardly. It was just her luck that the man who was her biological father would, in addition to being the darkest wizard Britain had ever seen, also a sexist pig.

"I would sooner eat a hippogriff whole than spend any time planning your ridiculous gatherings."

This seemed to relieve Voldemort, because his shoulders seemed to grow less stiff and he looked at her with renewed interest.

"Tell me, Hermione," he said as he watched her, "How are you finding marriage? Is Severus treating you well?" The change of subject startled her, but she nodded once stiffly. She really didn't want to discuss Severus with Lord Voldemort.

"And do you renew the bond frequently?"

Hermione nearly swallowed her tongue.

"That is none of your goddamned business," she answered through gritted teeth.

"I only ask because I would hate for either of you to suffer from the adverse effects that can accompany a period of abstinence. Your powers are too valuable to allow to be diminished."

"Perhaps you could have thought of that before you put us in this position," Hermione ground out.

At this, Voldemort barked out an amused laugh.

"Do you regret it still? I thought you were beginning to grow fond of my Potions Master."

Hermione didn't grace him with an answer, choosing instead to stare straight ahead, pretending that the dark wizard at her side was anywhere else. It was another minute before he spoke again.

"I grow tired of your petulance," he said, voice crisp and cruel. "I gave you a very great gift in Severus, Hermione. I could have chosen any man for your husband, and I gave you one with whom you were familiar, a man who is powerful and intelligent and loyal. Can you not even thank me for such a concession?"

"Thank you," said Hermione at once, keeping her own shoulders stiff as she stared down at the book in her hands. "I realize…" her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat to try again. "I realize you made a wise decision, and I find I am… not adverse to your choice."

"Hmm," said Voldemort. "Was that so very hard?"

Hermione shook her head now as he rose, crossing to a shelf behind her and plucking a book off of it.

"I tire of this conversation, Hermione," he said as he sat back down with the black tome, "Go back to your husband and leave me in peace."

She rose at once and practically fled from the room, realizing as she went that as long as Voldemort was there, she could not forget herself in the part she played. His evil would always serve to remind her of the good for which she fought, and of the real family she would never see again unless this Dark Lord and his followers were destroyed once and for all.


	26. In Power

**Hello Lovelies. It has been a** _ **week**_ **, let me tell you. I have not been feeling my best and have been touched by a sense of inadequacy which has made doing more than keeping myself and my children alive a bit difficult. My drive has disappeared, my muchness has gone. I'm working hard to get it back and am hoping that these next two weeks visiting family will give me a chance to recharge and refocus so that when I return in April I'll be able to write and work on other pursuits without the crippling guilt and inadequacy that tell me I am anything other than the stellar human being I know I can be.**

 **Now that the Dear Diary portion of the evening has come to a close, please know that I appreciate all of your reviews, all of your follows, and all of your favorites. They really can brighten a day and are like a drop of sunshine in my inbox when I'm feeling low. You can expect another chapter after this next Monday, followed by a short break during which I hope to be furiously writing.**

 **One Thousand and One thanks to FaceofPoe who is not only a fabulous beta, but a thoughtful and kind friend.**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Six: In Power**

 **August 1, 1997**

They were both stubborn, that was the problem. When Hermione had arrived back in their suite the night the Death Eaters failed to capture Harry, Severus had been ignoring her, and her pride had not allowed her to speak first. They went to bed that night without speaking a word and had proceeded to ignore one another the next day. And the day after that. Eventually they had gone nearly five days without speaking for longer than it took to say 'Please pass the jam.'

Hermione occupied herself in the library for the most part. Voldemort had taken to coming in the evenings and engaging her in conversation. He spoke mainly of magical theory. His ideas on time turners and their potential were both intriguing and terrifying, and despite herself Hermione couldn't keep from giving her own opinions on time and whether it was malleable or concrete. Voldemort had seemed amused by her assertion that time was a closed loop, and that travel into the past would change nothing, but that the time traveler would find themselves a part of events as they were meant to unfold.

"One day I think we will test your theory," he had said to her. Hermione had shuddered at the promise, not sure whether the sensation was out of fear or excitement.

By the fifth day, Hermione was beginning to feel the effects of the bond. Having memorized the beauty charms of interest to her in the book Narcissa Malfoy had mentioned, Hermione next began a comprehensive study of the aspects of wizarding culture to which she had not been privy as a student at Hogwarts. There was a particularly fascinating book on social etiquette Hermione had begun to devour, marvelling at how positively archaic pureblood culture seemed… but as she sat on a chair in her sitting room staring down at its pages, she found that, while she was able to read individual words, she became lost in the text after only a few sentences, her thoughts wandering to her absent husband who she had not seen all day.

The sitting room door swept open and he appeared as if she had conjured him. He stood there for a moment in full Death Eater regalia, his hood up, his mask in his hand, and his black robes intimidatingly tidy.

Hermione forced her eyes back to the book in her lap as she bit her lip unconsciously. She would _not_ find him attractive, not when he'd barely said two words to her since they had argued the week before. His words, however, had her gaze snapping back up to his, eyes widening in surprise and mouth falling open.

"The Ministry has fallen," he said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him before crossing to their bedroom door and passing through it. He was in the other room before Hermione came to her senses and followed him.

"What happened?" she asked anxiously.

Severus shrugged where he stood in front of the wardrobe, unbuttoning his robes and hanging them within.

"We took it," he said, "Does the method really matter? The minister is dead, and the new one is a puppet."

"Harry and Ron? Did they manage to get out before the aurors went for them?" Hermione asked. Severus nodded stiffly.

"Dumbledore apparated them away. I'm sure they're hiding at Grimmauld place now."

"That's good." Severus didn't respond, only continued undressing and then began to put on a set of black dress robes.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione.

"There's a celebratory dinner," said Severus. "You should dress and come down." Hermione made a face but didn't respond, crossing to her own wardrobe and opening it. Her options were vast and she eyed them for several minutes before finally pulling out a wine colored dress made of crushed velvet. It was by far one of the most modest dresses she owned, with long sleeves and a full skirt descending from the fitted waist. Even the neckline was not too low, descending from near the outside of her shoulders in a soft V but stopping just short of exposing the tops of her breasts. She donned the thing as Severus exited to the sitting room and then spent several minutes more in front of the vanity, using her wand to practice the spells she had learned which would apply her makeup and fix her hair independently. When she was done, she looked quite pretty, but reserved. She was satisfied.

When she found him, Severus was drinking what looked like firewhiskey from a small crystal tumbler.

"Let's go," he said, voice brusque as he slammed the glass down and came to grab her by the arm, guiding her towards the doorway.

"I can find my own way, thanks," she said acidly as she yanked herself out of his grip. Severus only sneered at her and stalked off, disappearing into the hallway in a huff. She followed him, rolling her eyes and tucking her wand up her sleeve as she went. The hall leading out of the west wing was empty, but when they reached the formal dining room and opened the door, a cacophony of noise exploded around them. No one was in the their seats. All of the inner circle was in attendance, along with several of the ministry officials Hermione recognized from the ball she had attended, and all of them seemed to be flushed with excitement and talking over one another loudly. When she and Severus entered, a few people paused and approached them, wide grins on their faces. Hermione stiffened in preparation.

"Snape!" A man Hermione recognized as Walden Macnair approached them alongside Yaxley and Rodolphus Lestrange. All three of the men carried drinks and were smiling wildly. Lestrange was still wearing his Death Eater robes, but the other two had changed into more formal outfits.

"Gentlemen," Severus nodded as the three stopped in front of them, giving slight bows to Hermione who, unsure of how to respond, merely nodded.

"You fought well today," said Yaxley, passing the full glass in his hand to Severus as he spoke. "I imagine the Dark Lord will give you Hogwarts after the display you put on."

Severus took the glass, shrugging and draining it quickly.

"I wouldn't be half so modest if it'd been me," said Macnair, sounding envious.

"Why would it have been _you_?" said Lestrange, scoffing, "You couldn't even kill a bleeding Hippogriff."

"Come now," said Severus, sounding reproachful. "From what I heard, he did manage to kill a pumpkin, so he is not completely without skill."

Yaxley and Lestrange burst into laughter, the former slapping Severus on the shoulder. If she hadn't been intimately familiar with his facial expressions, Hermione would have missed the momentary flash of distaste at being touched by the other man.

"I feel as though I've missed something," said Hermione, arching a brow and sending her most autocratic stare at the men surrounding her. Severus did not react, but his three compatriots all seemed to still and shrink where they stood, avoiding her gaze and clearing their throats. "Well?" said Hermione, addressing Severus now as she placed a hand on her hip.

"It would hardly be of interest to you," he dismissed. Hermione's eyes flashed.

"I'll be the judge of that."

"No, you won't," said Severus, and before she could respond he was walking away from her and towards the other end of the long, formal dining table where someone had laid out a great deal of alcohol.

"Well, that's nice," said Hermione, crossing her arms and glaring after her husband. She stared daggers at his back as he poured himself another drink before remembering that three of Lord Voldemort's most ardent supporters were still standing beside her. Sighing, she turned to face them.

"Did you want something else?" she asked crossly, "Or were your goals this evening merely to sow discord and be nuisances?"

"No, my lady," answered Yaxley quickly, eyes downcast. It was odd, she thought, how much she enjoyed the deference they seemed to pay her.

"Then be dears and _go away_ ," she said, waving a hand and watching out of the corner of her eye as they filed off.

Between parting ways with Severus and actually sitting down for dinner, Hermione was approached by three other groups of attendees. It was as if all of Voldemort's supporters had decided that night that it would be wise to begin including her in their social events and sucking up to the best of their abilities. Hermione had to wonder if they knew something she didn't.

When the Dark Lord arrived, the guests went quiet, watching him sweep to the head of the table and sit, motioning for everyone else to do the same. Hermione was seated on his left, and Severus on his right, and she sat awkwardly there as house elves in the kitchen below sent up their food magically, waiting for Voldemort to address her. She had learned in the days since she had arrived at the castle, that the Dark Lord always spoke first.

When he did speak, it was not to Hermione, but to Severus.

"You did well today, Severus," he said, his voice low enough that it did not disturb the dozens of people still speaking excitedly to one another up and down the sides of the dining table.

"I did only what you asked, my lord," Severus responded, lifting the full glass of elvish wine in front of him and drinking deep. Hermione furrowed her brows. That was his fourth drink since she had first seen him a mere half hour before. What did he think he was doing?

"But you did it with such style," said Voldemort, "I don't imagine the former minister's staff will soon forget the warning you left them."

Severus only inclined his head graciously and took another mouthful of his drink.

"Tell me daughter, what do you think of the display your husband put on at the Ministry?"

Hermione startled at being addressed and then shrugged. "I'm not sure what you're referring to, actually. No one's seen fit to let me in on the secret."

"Well we wouldn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities," scoffed Severus from Voldemort's other side. "I know how distasteful you find my more barbarous talents."

"I'm sure in time she will see the necessity of our actions," dismissed Voldemort, turning back to face Hermione and giving her what she was sure he thought amounted to a smile. "You will not, at the very least, be disappointed in your husband's skill."

"What happened?" she found herself asking, not sure she really wanted to know, but aware that Voldemort wanted her to.

"Tell her, Severusss." His sibilant voice melded with a hiss from beneath the table and Hermione shivered, knowing that his pet snake Nagini must be lurking there.

"I disposed of Scrimgeour," said Severus, a hint of pride in his voice as his empty glass of wine refilled itself.

"Artfully," added Voldemort. "He flayed the corpse and left it bound to the ridiculous Fountain of Magical Brethren for all to see. When I told you to leave an impression, I did not expect you to be so very thorough."

"I live to serve." Severus raised his glass at the Dark Lord and then drank.

This then, was what had her husband drinking himself into a stupor. She should have known something more than their petty disagreement must be bothering him when he had taken the third drink. She had never seen him imbibe more than a glass or two of brandy at a time, and tonight he was on his fifth. She wondered whether Voldemort was more used to seeing Severus in his cups, if it was something he did when he was particularly disgusted with himself.

"Is that all?" Hermione heard herself say after a long pause. "I had thought perhaps he'd set the ministry archives on fire. I think I might have been more concerned then. I was never very fond of Scrimgeour."

Voldemort laughed at this and Severus shot her a surprised look. Had he expected her to react as she had when he killed Avery? Perhaps he was right to expect it from her, but Hermione liked to think she was a quick study, and she rarely made the same mistake twice. She knew Severus Snape, and the things he did he did not out of enjoyment, but out of necessity.

"You are a delight," said Voldemort as his laughter subsided. "Though I must confess, I had expected you to be more concerned over the fall of the Ministry than-" Hermione interrupted him before he could finish, ignoring the way his eyes flashed red as she waved a hand dismissively.

"Please, it's not as if you actually managed to capture anyone I care about. The Ministry is the least of my concerns. As far as I'm concerned, it hasn't been effective in several decades." _Truth with lies_ , she thought, focusing on her feelings of disdain for Fudge's Ministry and chancing a glance up at the Dark Lord. His gaze caught hers and he was in her mind in an instant. He waded through her emotions and memories as she supplied them, letting him see her relief that Harry and Ron had eluded capture, her frustration at the Ministry and at the way she had been treated as a muggleborn at Hogwarts… even a spark of anger at her mother for lying to her for all those years. Last of all, she showed him her thoughts of Severus, her admiration, her trust… the deep feeling she had yet to name but which welled inside of her like a spring.

Voldemort withdrew, seemingly satisfied, and Hermione was surprised at how simple a thing it was to deceive the darkest wizard of all time. One had only to admit their flaws and Lord Voldemort would interpret them as he saw fit. Occlumency showed only bits of truth, and Hermione realized how inexact a magic it really was. If Voldemort was less arrogant, he would have done better to use Veritaserum, but his confidence in his own skill was unfailing.

The rest of the evening passed quickly. Voldemort exchanged pleasantries with his giddy followers, rewarding people for their service with positions of power in the Ministry. Severus was made Headmaster of Hogwarts and soundly congratulated by his fellows. Hermione, though she had not participated in the day's activities, was promised a position at St. Mungo's as a Healer in Training when her apprenticeship was finished, where she would rise quickly through the ranks and become the youngest head in history. Severus drank more than Hermione thought possible and when the meal was over begged to be excused, a request Voldemort granted indulgently. A few minutes later, Hermione took her leave as well. Voldemort let her go with a smirk and she rushed toward the west wing.

She found him with the bottle of firewhiskey in his hand, standing in front of the fireplace with his head on the mantle.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed, shutting and warding the door behind her before making her way across the room to where Severus stood.

"I've never known your eyesight to be poor," he said, taking a swig of firewhiskey and setting the bottle down in front of him as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Being a belligerent drunk," snapped Hermione, using her wand the banish the firewhiskey back to the drinks cupboard.

"Well, when you're being an unbearable shrew, I think I'll do whatever the fuck I please," said Severus, still staring into the fire. Hermione rolled her eyes and conjured a glass, filling it with water and setting it on the mantle beside him as she summoned a vil of sober-up potion.

"Drink this," she said, tipping the potion into the glass and offering it to him.

"No thank you," he said, not bothering to open his eyes. "I worked hard to get this pissed, I'm not going to have you fuck it all up now."

"Merlin's beard, Severus. Are you always this stubborn or is it something I bring out in you?"

"Go away," he said by way of answer, "I'm not interested in arguing with you tonight."

"Who said anything about arguing?" Severus met her eye and the look of disbelief on his face nearly caused her to laugh. "Am I so predictable?"

"I could recite the entire conversation to you. I've a particular sense of clairvoyance where your sensitivities are concerned."

"Really," said Hermione dryly. "Let's hear it then." She moved to sit on the sofa behind him, admiring the smooth line of his shoulders and the gentle curve of his rear beneath his robes. She didn't know whether it was the bond or her own natural attraction to the man who was her lover, but she thought shagging him might be a great deal more fun than arguing with him tonight, even if he was a stubborn son of a-

"You'll tell me I'm an idiot for drinking around the Dark Lord," he began, turning to face her and using the mantle behind him for support, "And you'll accuse me of enjoying what I did to Scrimgeour. You'll act as if your shit doesn't smell and tell me I'm some sort of letch… and then we'll probably fuck, because all I can think about right now is your tits, and your pussy, and how bloody delicious it feels when I'm inside of it."

Hermione blushed bright red, responding despite herself to Severus's coarse language and swallowing as she forced herself to meet his gaze.

"You've got a foul mouth when you're drunk, Severus. And besides, I'm not even sure you could manage to perform, the state you're in."

His eyes flashed and he pushed off of the fireplace behind him, advancing slowly but steadily, his eyes predatory as he grew closer. The flush on Hermione's cheeks seemed to extend rapidly until her whole body was on fire and Severus had reached her, leaning down to hover over her, his arms trapping her on either side.

"Say no," he ordered through gritted teeth, his dark eyes smouldering into hers as her breath quickened and she shook her head no. God, how she wanted him to touch her, to kiss her. She had been burning for this since the last time, and she didn't care about their stupid, petty argument now, or the fact that he had murdered a man hours before.

Instead, she kissed him, throwing her arms around his neck and drawing him close enough that she could devour his mouth with hers, drawing his lower lip between her teeth and biting just hard enough to get a reaction out of him. And he did react. He deepened their kiss, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her up until they were both standing and her chest was crushed against his.

"Perfect," he breathed, breaking their kiss and palming one breast as he stumbled backward, his back hitting the wall beside the fireplace as Hermione followed him, moaning against the skin of his throat. She could feel his stiff arousal pressing against her abdomen, proof that he was indeed capable of doing what they both desired, despite his inebriated state. Still…

"Drink," she said, her hand outstretched towards the glass she had set on the mantle. It sped to her, the wandless magic she had manifested easier than it had ever been before. She held the glass to his lips and locked her eyes on his, seeing the very moment he decided to comply and began to drink the water and potion. He drained the thing in record time and took the glass from her, tossing it into the fireplace and pulling her body against his with renewed vigor as he spun them so that it was Hermione trapped between his lanky form and the hard wall.

They did not speak after that, only touched one another. His hands roved over her body, ripping the modest neckline of her gown to leave her brassiere exposed and then pushing even that down so that her breasts were left obscenely bare to his gaze, framed by the scraps of soft pink lace.

He laid open mouthed kisses over her nipples as she moaned and lifted her heavy skirt up, wrapping her legs around his hips so that she could feel his cock grinding against her through the fabric of her underwear. A muttered _evanesco_ from Hermione vanished his heavy robes, leaving her hand free to work at his trousers until they were loosened enough for her to shove down over his ass. His hard length sprang free into her hand, velvet and fire combined as she stroked it and he groaned into her hair.

He was in her before she had a chance to do much else, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut at the sensation. His hands found her hips and he began to move, his every stroke making her grunt, his fingers digging into her skin as he pounded her against the wall.

It did not take long for her to come, her orgasm taking her by surprise and shattering her as she cried out his name. Her sensitive folds pulsed around him as he continued, rocking in and out of her determinedly, his brow furrowed in concentration until at last he bit his lip and spilled inside of her, burying his face against her shoulder and biting the tender flesh where it met her neck, hard enough that she winced and and tensed until he loosened his grip.

Later, she could not remember how they had come to lay together in their bed, only that the sound his his heart beating against her ear was comforting, and that she was sure she would have bruises in the morning.

"Hermione," she heard him say her name softly, and though she was half asleep she managed to respond.

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to kill him for you."

"Who?"

"The Dark Lord."

"Oh. Thank you."

He chuckled and pulled her closer as she finally lost consciousness and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	27. Names

**A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews and encouragements. I haven't had a chance to respond to reviews and PMs, and I may not get one before this vacation is over, but everyone should know I'm reading and loving every single one and will get back to you when I'm back home. :) And just like that we are all caught up with what I have written! A reminder that I probably won't be able to post an update again until April, but after that we should be back to weekly updates. And can you believe we've crossed 100k?!**

 **Beta Love to my dearest FaceOfPoe.**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Seven: Names**

 **August 2, 1997**

Severus left early the next morning, waking her with a gentle kiss of her brow before leaving her to fall promptly asleep again. She did not fully realize that he had gone farther than the loo until she woke to an empty room flooded by late morning sunshine and cold sheets where her husband should have been.

Immediately, her heart sank. She sat up, swinging her legs from the bed as she did so. She had hoped that after the previous evening they might be past the petty disagreement which had been the cause of their short estrangement… but if Severus had left that morning and not bothered to return, perhaps the situation was more serious than she had expected, and the argument between them would not be easily soothed.

She sighed as she made her way towards the bath, wincing slightly at the tenderness where her bottom had been repeatedly knocked against the wall the night before. She blushed at the memory, looking down and noticing as she did that his grip had left bruises on her hips where he had held her in place; not that she had minded in the least.

She washed quickly, not bothering to renew the beauty charms which had faded as she slept and watched as her curls grew riotous around her. She plaited them as best she could and returned to the bedroom wrapped in one of the large towels Severus had transfigured to fit his frame comfortably upon their arrival. She squeaked when she saw him standing beside the wardrobe, almost as undressed as she in his slacks and nothing more.

"Severus! What are you doing here?" He quirked a brow in response and unbuttoned his slacks as she blushed and averted her gaze.

"I'm undressing," he said, sounding amused, "A sight I thought you would be familiar with by now."

Hermione's blush deepened and she swallowed as she stole a furtive glance between his legs and then looked away again. "Yes, but what are you doing _here_ ," she said, suddenly aware of her own damp nakedness beneath the towel she wore wrapped around her torso. "I thought you were still being obstinate about-"

"Obstinate?" His eyes flashed and Hermione swallowed.

"Offended," she corrected. "I thought you were still upset at me, and that's why you'd gone this morning."

"Still upset at you- Hermione I don't think I could be cross after last evening if I wanted to be. Your… charms, have a way of soothing me."

"Merlin, Sev, let's not call them that."

"Your cunt?"

"Shit. Let's stick with charms."

"Very well."

In the silence that followed, Hermione could practically hear her embarrassment as her heart pounded and she tried to keep her face from growing any more red. Finally, after nearly a minute of avoiding his gaze, during which he put on fresh pair of trousers and one of his trademark white button up shirts, Hermione spoke.

"So you're not mad at me then?"

Severus seemed amused but shook his head.

"Should I be?"

"No," she said quickly, but then remembering the ridiculous argument they had had days before she shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know."

Severus watched her for several moments, his eyes glittering speculatively before he spoke again. "Do you want me to be upset with you?" Hermione swallowed and shook her head.

"No. I… I'm sorry. If I've been overly critical of you. I don't mean to be, I'm just… bad at this."

"At what?"

"Not being judgemental, I suppose," she said, unwilling to meet his gaze as the shame at her admission flooded her.

"I don't think I'd be nearly so fond of you if you were morally bankrupt," said Severus softly, "So I suppose your shock at my methods can be tolerated for what they are: the legitimate concerns of a good woman." She looked up and his gaze locked on to hers, his expression warm. "And though it pains me to say it… I was not at my best after Potter's- well. I'm sorry. For being an ass. Weasley's ear was not something I meant to happen. I should not have goaded you."

Not knowing what to say, Hermione cleared her throat and nodded once.

"Thank you," she said, "Excuse me." She brushed past him, grabbing the first thing she laid hold of in the wardrobe before whirling around to escape back to the bathroom. As she dressed, she tried not to think about what he'd said before apologizing to her (an event which was in and of itself, shocking), about how he had admitted a fondness for her, about how that admission had made her heart race and her breath catch and her eyes well up with ridiculous, over-emotional tears. Of course he was fond of her, she was bloody brilliant, why shouldn't he be fond of her? But the way he had said it, the soft tone of voice and the joy as he had spoken… perhaps it had been her imagination, but there seemed to have been a gravity to his words that meant something, something more than just respect or fondness between two friends. Her heart seemed to leap at the thought and Hermione let out a frustrated huff as she sat on the edge of the bathtub.

She was being absurd, reading too much into his words. She was being juvenile. Still, she couldn't stop the wide smile from spreading across her face as she covered it with her hands, or the racing of her heart as she felt an overwhelming urge to laugh aloud in happiness.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts and she heard Severus speak through the door.

"Hermione? Is everything alright?"

She bit her lip and nodded before remembering he wouldn't be able to see her through the door and calling out, "Yes! I'm perfectly fine! Be right out!" She stood up straight and crossed to the sink, splashing her face with cold water before patting it dry and adjusting the robes she wore in front of the mirror. They were deep green and modestly cut. Work robes, really, though finely made. When she had bought them, Severus had told her they would do well as apprentice garb once the school year began and Professor Slughorn returned to the castle. She thought perhaps he just enjoyed the fact that she was wearing one of Slytherin's colors. Still, she'd bought three sets of the robes in the same color, because it really did compliment her skin tone.

She found Severus in the sitting room a minute later, taking up the large armchair by the window, with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee and a book resting on his lap.

"You look quite fetching in that," he said as she came to sit on the sofa across from him, sinking into the soft floral fabric. "I think I like it better than your other outfits." She felt herself blush, the compliment making more of an impression than usual after his earlier comment.

"Thank you," she said, "Though I'm not sure why you think so. It's not nearly as pretty as some of my gowns." Severus scoffed and shut the book he held with a snap.

"Those costumes? You look nothing like yourself in them. You're far better looking as you are now."

"Are you saying you don't find me attractive when I wear them?"

Severus arched a brow and shook his head.

"Not at all," he said, "Half the time when I look at you in one of those dresses I want to take you to bed. But that doesn't mean I prefer them."

"What if I prefer them?"

This time Severus snorted.

"Please, you may be able to fool the Dark Lord, but I have spent far too much time with you to be deceived. You prefer comfort over style."

Hermione shrugged.

"What if I like making you want to bed me?" She watched him carefully for a reaction, noting the way his eyes widened just slightly and his lips parted before he tilted his head in amusement

"Madame Snape, are you trying to seduce me?" he asked. Hermione laughed and shrugged.

"What if I am?" she questioned. His eyes seemed to smolder at her response and he uncrossed his legs, leaning forward in his seat and watching her closely, his gaze never leaving hers as his thoughts seemed to scroll across his face for her to read. Her laughter was cut short at the sensual look and her breath caught once more. He waited for several heartbeats before speaking.

"Then, my dear, I would be happy to oblige."

"Oh," she said, leaning forward, her eyes fluttering shut in anticipation of his lips against hers. Merlin, how she loved to kiss him, to feel his breath against her as they-

"Unfortunately, now is not the time."

"What!?" cried Hermione, instantly embarrassed by her own neediness. She winced at how shrill her voice had sounded and then glowered at the men across from her. How perfectly awful of him to lead her on like that only to leave her hanging just as she had thought they might be about to-

Severus only chuckled and leaned to his side, reaching for three plain envelopes she hadn't noticed before, which sat on the end table beside the chair he occupied.

"These are for you," he said, holding them out for her to take. Hermione's previous ire was forgotten as she reached for the envelopes, grabbing them and pulling them back into her space on the sofa where she began to inspect them. There was nothing written on the outside of the letters, and a quick sweep of Hermione's wand revealed that there were no enchantments on the parchment.

"Who are they from?" Hermione asked, half breathless.

"Who do you think?"

"But how did you get them past Vol-"

"DON'T!" shouted Severus, springing from his chair and forward, his hand coming up to cover Hermione's mouth, his fingers digging uncomfortably into her cheek. Shocked, Hermione nearly lost her wand as she tried to scramble away. Still, she managed to keep a grip on it as she struggled beneath him, pressing it to his stomach as he swore but kept his hand firmly over her mouth.

"Damn and blast," he said, seeming offended by the threatening presence of her wand at his gut. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

Unable to speak, Hermione merely furrowed her brows and dug her wand tip deeper into his belly.

"Bloody Gryffindor," said Snape, "The name is Taboo! Unless you want a score of my brethren apparating into this room while you're in possession of illicit messages from your father's greatest enemies, you will not speak his name!"

"Wuhookuuhtowmuhbeoo!" Hermione's words were muffled by Severus' hand, but she lowered her wand and rolled her eyes. Seemingly satisfied, he moved his hand, sitting back on the couch beside her and eyeing her warily as if he thought she might curse him.

"Honestly," said Hermione crossly as she rubbed her mouth, "Was springing at me like that really necessary?"

"You were about to say the name," said Severus.

"Yes, until you interrupted me," said Hermione. "I'm hardly so much of an idiot that I would have ignored your shout and gone on talking. Really, Severus."

"Well excuse me for wanting to keep us both alive," he answered stiffly. Hermione only sighed and and shook her head.

"Please," she said, "The dramatics are killing me."

"Dramatics? Are you daft, woman? You could have just-"

This time it was Hermione's turn to interrupt Severus, and she did so as she leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his and relishing the surprised sound he made before his eyes fluttered shut and he seemed to sink into the kiss. His lips parted as he sighed, the tension draining from him as Hermione ran one hand across his cheek and up into his hair and placed the other against his chest where she could feel his steady heartbeat beneath her palm.

"There," she said, breaking the kiss and looking up at him. He looked slightly dazed, but not displeased. "All better?"

"Hmm," he grumbled, eyes focusing on hers before she thought she detected the faintest hint of a blush and he turned away, rising from the sofa and making his way towards the door. "Burn them when you're done," he said before leaving. Hermione watched him go, wondering if he was aware that he was still dressed only in the trousers and button up shirt he usually reserved for the privacy of their rooms.

Once he had gone, Hermione turned back to the envelopes he had brought, reaching for the one on top and opening it. The messy script was familiar and she smiled at the sight.

 _Dear Mione,_ it read.

 _I know Harry is going to fill you in on everything, so I won't go into too much detail. We miss you. Having Dumbledore around is… well, it's different. Honestly, I feel stupid more than half the time, like he knows something and is just waiting for us to figure it out, but we're too dense to put it together. I know it's probably not really like that, but like I said, having him around is different. Great wizard though, right? We miss you, honestly. Hope your N.E.W.T.s went well and you're safe with your parents. Hope you've found out more about the thing you stayed behind to research as well. (Dumbledore says we aren't to say what it is in case these are intercepted.)_

 _Write back soon._

Hermione set aside Ron's missive with a small smile. Merlin she missed those boys. Even if her last few encounters with Ron had been awkward, he was still one of her best friends, and she missed him too. She frowned for a moment, thinking of what he had written about Dumbledore and comparing it to what she knew of the man. He was hiding things from the boys, and she found herself glad that Ron was sharp enough to realize it.

The second envelope was much thicker, and Hermione opened it with a small amount of trepidation.

 _Hermione_ ,

 _I'm so glad you made it out of Hogwarts safe. After the ministry fell Ron and I were sick over you. We tried to make Dumbledore go back to Hogwarts for you, but he said he'd already sent you into hiding with your parents, and that you'd be safer there than with us. He's right, I know he's right, but we still miss you. Wherever you are, I hope things are going well for you._

 _I know you'll be worried sick about us, but don't be. We're with Dumbledore and he's been fantastic. He was at Bill and Fleur's wedding with us when the ministry fell (It's a good thing you couldn't make it), and apparated us to safety at headquarters. I'm honestly a bit in shock, after everything that's happened. There's so much I wish I could tell you, but I know it's not wise to put it here in a letter. Dumbledore told me he would have them delivered to you safely, but I can't help but be a bit paranoid. I have a feeling he'll send this with Snape, and I don't trust him. I'm not sure if you know, but he was there the night they moved me from Privet Drive to The Burrow. There was a big fight and Death Eaters were waiting. Hedwig died. And Snape hexed off George's ear. Dumbledore says it was something he had to do to keep his cover… But I don't trust him, Hermione. Steer clear of him if he ever gets assigned to protect your parents. Put up your own charms and don't trust him._

 _I wish you were here. I feel like we're fighting a battle we don't really understand, and I wish I could talk to you about it, could get your take on it all. I know Dumbledore has a plan, but I reckon we could benefit from your perspective as well. I know you're with your parents, but if you could just spare an evening and come to headquarters… I need you, Hermione. Please come._

 _Harry_

Her heart was pounding at an incredible rate as she set the letter down on the sofa beside her. Nothing Harry had told her had been new information, but his plea at the end resounded in her mind. _I need you, Hermione. Please come._ How could she deny his request?

Immediately, she began to plan and to plot. How could she convince Voldemort to let her leave the castle and go to Grimmauld Place? Perhaps if Severus were to pretend to use the bond on her, to compel her to collect information and then return… she thought that the sort of intelligence she would be able to gain might be worth risking her outside of the keep's walls. And the bond would act like a tether, ensuring her return to the Death Eaters. She thought it was a plan Voldemort would agree to, even knowing that her primary motive would be to see her friend and ensure his safety. And if she were to agree to collect information of her own free will… she was sure the man who called himself her father would love to see her bending to his wishes, compromising her own ideals.

She eyed the third envelope, knowing who it must be from and unsure of whether she actually wanted to open it or not. After several minutes, she reached for it. It was light in her hand, thinner than either Harry's or Ron's. She broke the seal and withdrew a thin sheet of parchment with a flowing script she had rarely had occasion to see before.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _I think it best that you join us at Headquarters briefly. Voldemort will allow it, I think. I look forward to hearing your report soon._

 _APWBD_

Hermione sighed, crumpling the letter in her fist and leaning back in her seat, eyes closed as her mind and pulse raced together.

It had to be done, she reminded herself, it was necessary. She could do what was necessary, she always had before, and this would be no different. Hermione Granger always excelled when she put her mind to something, and she would be damned if she'd fail when it mattered the most. She would convince Voldemort to allow her to go, and she would play the role she had been thrust into. Friend, Spy, Dark Lord's Daughter… Hermione Granger. No, she corrected herself, Hermione Snape. Hermione Granger had been a selfish, judgemental girl with a limited world view and a sense of morality too rigid for what needed to be done. Hermione Snape, however, could do what her more naive counterpart could not. She could accept the darkness, the role she had been given… she could do what was necessary and not tremble at the sacrifice.

 _Far better a Snape, than a Granger,_ she thought. _Far better a spy than a sheep._


	28. Headquarters

**A/N: Happy April, everyone! Thank you for your patience, and for all the lovely reviews and PMs you sent me after the last chapter. Writing this story and hearing from all of you has become such a bright spot for me. I so look forward to reading your reactions to this chapter.**

 **And if you haven't started reading _The Alkahest_ by Shadukiam, yet, you absolutely must. It is one of the most brilliant stories I've ever had the pleasure of reading and I am eagerly, EAGERLY awaiting the next chapter. Come and find me on tumblr (where I have the same screen name as I have here) and we can chat about it!**

 **Beta Appreciation to FaceofPoe, who _still_ puts up with me and helps me to brainstorm and not look like I failed all of my elementary spelling tests. **

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Headquarters**

 **August 7, 1997**

They apparated directly onto the worn doorstep of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, wrapped in travelling cloaks and wearing grim looks of determination. The Dark Lord had not been difficult to convince. When Hermione had agreed to bring back any information she could if only he would let her go to her friends… he had seemed intrigued, if not exactly thrilled, and had ordered Severus to accompany her at his convenience. Now, as they stood outside of the heavy front door, Hermione steeled herself for the encounter to come. Her feelings were in turmoil despite her best efforts to tame them. She was at once happy to be seeing her friends again, and yet nervous that they would be able to sense the change in her. Well, she thought, there really wasn't much she could do about it now. This was the moment, the test that would prove her either capable or inept as a spy. All she could do now was press forward.

She rang the doorbell, the loud clanging sound within and the shrieking of Walburga Black's portrait alerting her to the fact that it had worked. She heard someone swearing beyond the door and a pair of footsteps racing forward before it swung inward, revealing the tall, broad-shouldered form of Ronald Weasley, his bright red hair in disarray and his wand clutched tightly in his hand as it pointed towards them.

"Hermione?" He questioned, his eyes squinting just slightly as if he were trying to get a better look at her. Self-consciously, Hermione looked down at herself, taking note of the the slightly dusty cloak she wore over muggle clothes she had donned for the evening before glancing back up at Ron.

"Hello, Ron," she said, smiling despite herself. There was a warm, comforting sort of feeling blooming in her chest at the sight of him and she realized at once how much she had missed her friend. She removed her cloak, hanging it on a rack near the door before turning back to face him.

"Hermione!" The shout from down the hall was joyful and drew her attention at once. Harry had rounded the corner and caught sight of her, springing forward at once and rushing past the still wailing portrait of Walburga toward Hermione, who stepped into the house and embraced him tightly when he reached her.

"Harry!" she cried, the joy at seeing Ron again amplified by the presence of her black haired best friend. "God, I've missed you!"

Behind her, Severus stepped into the hallway, scowling at the display but saying nothing as he swung the door shut behind them and pointed his own wand at the noisome painting, silencing it and drawing the curtains shut over it. "Do you think perhaps it might be wise to move beyond this cramped corridor and into a room where I can stand a bit further from this _touching_ scene?" he sneered, stowing his wand away and motioning down the hall. Before anyone could respond, however, Ron, who had been standing completely still by the door, launched himself forward and collided with the professor.

Hermione shouted as they fell to the floor, knocking both her and Harry to the side. She watched in horror as her friend tried his damndest to strangle her husband, eyes wide and mouth gaping until a sickening thud and crunch snapped her out of her frozen shock. Ron's fist had connected with Severus's face, and Hermione could see immediately that it had broken the latter's nose.

"Stop it!" she shouted, pulling her own wand out and pointing it at the still thrashing pair at her feet. "Ron, get off of him!" But before she could separate the two of them Severus moved like lightning, forcing Ron to his back on the floor and pinning him. There was a murderous expression on his face and the tip of his wand pointed up under the young man's chin.

"Get the hell off of him!" shouted Harry, moving forward to stand beside Hermione now, his wand drawn and pointed at his former professor.

"Harry, put your wand down this instant!" cried Hermione, reaching for him with her free arm only to have her hand shoved away.

"I'll put my wand away when he does," said Harry stubbornly, keeping both his eyes and wand trained on the dark wizard at whose mercy his friend was held.

"I don't know what holiday your mite-sized sense of self-preservation has gone on," hissed Severus, his menacing voice not at all dampened by the broken nose now streaming blood down his front and onto the younger wizard beneath him, "but I suggest you find it before I decide to take full advantage of its absence."

"Going to try and kill me like you did George?" spat Ron, his fists clenching at his side.

"If I had wanted to kill your ridiculous brother, boy, he would dead."

"You're a fucking disgusting waste of air, Snape."

"Ronald!" said Hermione in dismay.

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ " cried Severus, and Hermione had to physically restrain Harry, blocking his wand as her husband rose and strode angrily down the hall and up the stairs out of sight.

" _Finite_ ," Hermione pronounced once he had gone, pointing her wand at Ron's still form and watching as life seemed to flow through it once more and he sat up, his expression thunderous and his cheeks red. "What on earth were you thinking, Ron!?" she continued in consternation, "Attacking a professor like that!"

"He's not my bloody professor anymore," answered Ron, practically glowing scarlet now as he got to his feet. "He's just a greasy, overgrown bat who's more of a waste of space than Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Ron!"

"He's right, Hermione," said Harry, his own voice growing steely now. "You didn't see what he did to George." Hermione restrained herself from continuing to defend Severus, knowing that doing so would not be in character with the Hermione they had known.

"What happened to George?" she said instead, though she knew perfectly well how they would answer.

"Fucking Death Eater cursed his ear off," spat Ron.

Hermione feigned surprise. "Is he alright? Were they able to regrow it?"

Harry just shook his head as Ron glared in the direction Severus had gone, taking Hermione by the arm and leading her towards the stairs she knew led to the basement. She hooked her arm through Ron's as they went, pulling him reluctantly along with them.

"They stopped the bleeding, but the ear's gone," said Ron at last. "He was making all sorts of stupid jokes about it last I saw."

"I'm glad," Hermione smiled, "Not about the ear, but that it doesn't seem to have dampened his sense of humor."

Ron, whose shoulders seemed to be carrying the tension of his altercation with Severus still, shrugged and tried to smile. "Well, not much does. I imagine the only thing that could would be Fred dying or something. Merlin knows he'd be joking over _my_ casket."

The trio descended into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place in silence after that. As they entered, Hermione noticed that it was substantially cleaner than the last time she had been there, and she wondered briefly who had done the cleaning before a voice from beside the fireplace at the far end of the room called out to them.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Welcome."

When she caught sight of the elderly wizard sitting calmly at the head of the table, she nearly did a double take. His beard, which had always before been neatly combed, was looking quite wild as it cascaded down his chest, and the arm which she knew to be infected by some sort of curse was sitting stiffly at an angle which was just a bit odd. His robes, usually bright and ostentatious, were a sedate black which looked out of place on the eccentric wizard, seeming to throw each of his wrinkles into sharp relief and dulling the twinkle in his eye.

"Professor Dumbledore," she said, walking with Harry and Ron to sit beside him at the long table.

"How are your parents?" he asked, his voice lower than normal and quite a bit weaker than she remembered it. She glanced briefly at the boys beside her, wondering whether they had noted this decline in the Headmaster's health.

"Well, sir," she said, clearing her throat.

"I am glad to hear it. I am sorry to have been obliged to pull you from them."

"It's no trouble, really." She paused and looked sideways at Harry, who sat hunched over with his elbows on the table, looking at Professor Dumbledore. "If I'm being honest I've been worried sick about these two. I'm glad to see them." On her other side, Ron fidgeted, rubbing the spot beneath his chin where Severus's wand had been pressed. As she thought of her husband, she wondered whether he would be able to heal his own nose, or if he would need help. She was fairly confident in her ability to heal a broken bone, though she'd never actually had occasion to practice on a real person in the past.

"We're glad to see you too," said Harry, smiling at her as he leaned back in his chair.

"We've had a hell of a time," added Ron.

"It hasn't been that bad," smiled Harry, shrugging. "The fidelius charm lets us be on the run while living in the heart of London, it's not like we're hunkered down in a tent in the woods or something horrible like that. And Kreacher's been fixing us real meals whenever we want."

"Kreacher?" inquired Hermione, "I thought he hated you, Harry."

"Not anymore," said Ron, "Now he'd shine his shoes with his bum if he thought it'd make Harry happy."

"Charming, Ron," said Hermione dryly.

"Kreacher has experienced an enthusiastic change of heart," commented Dumbledore dryly. "As it happens, he was instrumental in our finding and destroying one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes."

Her own heart leaped at the news and Hermione looked from Dumbledore to Harry, who nodded twice with a wide grin. "We found the locket," he said. "The real one. RAB was Regulus Black, Sirius'-"

"Brother," said Hermione, "I remember. How on earth did you manage to destroy it?"

"Fiendfyre," Harry answered. "It was brilliant."

"Fiendfyre! But that's practically banned!"

"Not completely though," said Ron. "And it's one of the only things we could think of to destroy the damned thing."

"I assure you, I kept the flames well under control," said Dumbledore.

"I'm sure you did," she responded, perhaps a bit too sharply as Harry raised his brows at her tone.

"Alright?"

"Fine," she said, purposefully relaxing her shoulders and sighing. "I'm just feeling a little useless I suppose. I haven't been able to find anything more about Horcruxes in my research…" She met the Headmaster's gaze as she continued. "Or anything else of much use." She was not sure whether Dumbledore took her meaning as his gaze remained thoughtful until he spoke at last.

"Your worth is not only in the information you provide us, Miss. Granger, but in the loyalty and friendship you bear," he said, his voice soothing.

The rest of the evening passed too quickly for Hermione's liking. After discussing the locket and Kreacher's tale of being abused and left for dead by Voldemort, they had begun discussing possible locations of other Horcruxes. Harry and Dumbledore seemed convinced that Nagini harbored a piece of the Dark Lord's soul, and that it was this that gave him the ability to control her to such a degree. They were also quite certain that Helga Hufflepuff's heirloom cup was another Horcrux, one which might have either been hidden as the Gaunt ring had been, or given to one of Voldemort's loyal followers for safe keeping. Unfortunately, being on the run as they were did not lend itself to collecting memories as they had done before, and with Professor Dumbledore's health declining, they were left with even less recourse for finding those fractured bits of Voldemort's soul, wherever they might be. When it came to the search, they were relegated to relying on any information brought to them by the Order of the Phoenix, and biding their time cooped up within Sirius Black's childhood home. The identification of the third remaining Horcrux eluded them completely, though it seemed to make sense that it would be something which had belonged to one of the two founders Voldemort had not already collected.

When they had exhausted their abilities to theorize and after Hermione had been taken aside by Dumbledore and asked to listen for any hint of a Horcrux having been entrusted to another follower as he had the diary with Malfoy, the Headmaster retired, heading upstairs to where she knew Severus would be waiting to make his report.

She waited in the kitchens with Harry and Ron, fixing them all tea and chatting about Bill and Fleur's wedding and the time they had spent at the Burrow before the Ministry had fallen. She avoided speaking much about her parents, making it a point to keep the conversation revolving around Harry and Ron for as long as possible. Only when it would have been suspicious to change the subject did she lie about the time she'd supposedly been spending with her parents in hiding.

"It's been mind-numbing," she told them. "Honestly I'm not sure what more I can say. When I haven't been researching I've been making tea and trying to keep my parents calm. My mum's been a complete wreck because I didn't tell her how bad things were until it came time to move them, and my dad thinks hiding my books periodically will keep me from being involved." She paused, itching to say something more but not sure how the boys would react.

"You've been keeping an eye on Snape, right?" asked Harry, "Is he staying with you all most of the time or just checking in occasionally?"

There was that decision made, she thought.

"Professor Snape has been perfectly pleasant," she scowled. "As it turns out, when you treat him politely he is less inclined to mock or maim. You both should consider seeing him as an ally-"

"Not bloody likely," interrupted Ron. Hermione ignored him and continued.

"-instead of as the professor who used to fight with Harry's dad."

"And treated us like garbage for six years," said Harry, scowling along with Ron now.

"Harry, he's a spy! What did you expect, that he'd give you giant hugs just because he wasn't within sight of You-Know-Who?"

"He wasn't a spy when we started at Hogwarts," argued Harry.

"He has _always_ been a spy!" Hermione snapped. "Dumbledore has known since the night he disappeared that You-Know-Who would be back. Professor Snape has been keeping his cover for years, Harry!"

"A task which I must admit was pleasant to carry out where you were concerned, Potter." Severus's voice came from the kitchen doorway and Hermione jumped, whirling in her chair to scowl at him. His nose had been healed and his face wiped clean, though blood still covered the front of his robes, nearly invisible against the dark fabric.

"Professor," said Hermione, glaring at him for a moment as neither boy could see her expression and then turning back to Ron and placing a hand on his arm to keep him in place. She could almost sense the fresh scowl behind her at the contact. "Won't you join us?"

"I think not, Miss Granger," he said, stressing her name in a mocking manner that she knew would mean nothing to Harry and Ron, but which to her was a reminder that she was neither a miss nor a Granger any longer. "It is time to return you to your home. I wouldn't want your father worrying needlessly just because you can't stop coddling your little friends."

"Leave her alone," said Harry in a raised voice. Hermione put her free hand on his arm and willed him to be calm.

"It's perfectly alright, Harry. Professor Snape is right, I don't want my parents to worry. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful tonight." And before she could say much else, Harry had her wrapped in a hug, crushing her against him for a moment before releasing her, her expression bewildered.

"Just seeing you helped," he said, voice low. "I've missed you. You're family." Hermione nodded in understanding as she swallowed back a lump in her throat.

"You're my family too, Harry."

"How very touching," sneered Severus.

"Shut your mouth Snape. You don't talk to Hermione," spat Ron, throwing off Hermione's hand and rising from his seat.

"I'll do whatever I wish to Miss Granger," answered Severus, his voice silken as both Hermione and Ron noticed the wand in his hand when he raised it to point at the redhead.

"Ron, it's fine," said Hermione, "He's all talk, really. Please just ignore him." Ron seemed to struggle for a moment with the idea of letting Severus alone, but eventually, he seemed to settle on it and nodded once to Hermione.

"So it can be taught," mocked Severus, lowering his wand as the trio made their way towards him. He swept around before they reached him, his robes billowing as he made his way up the steps and into the ground floor hallway where he continued out of the front door and onto the porch.

"Alright," said Hermione as she reached the entrance and slowed to a stop, the boys still on either side of her. "Please, _please_ be careful. I know you're with Professor Dumbledore, but don't be lax about security. You really ought to have asked us security questions when we arrived."

"Nah," said Ron, still eyeing Severus through the doorway, "Polyjuice only works on humans, not bats."

"Ronald!" she said, hitting him on the arm as Harry snorted.

"Don't dawdle forever," Severus called impatiently, and Hermione rolled her eyes and gave each of the boys a quick hug goodbye before donning her travelling cloak, raising the hood, and making her way out onto the little porch and down the front steps to where her husband was waiting on the street, his arms crossed, expression imperious. She glanced back and was shocked to see Harry following her down the steps and into the street.

"You had better keep her safe," he was saying, his finger pointed in Severus's direction.

"Harry!" hissed Hermione, glancing around them hurriedly for any sign of someone watching, "Get back up the steps!"

"Because if I find out you're not what Dumbledore thinks you are-"

"Potter you imbecile, go back inside the-"

"I won't just stop at Voldemort, I'll-"

"Harry, no!"

The thunderous sound of half a dozen people apparating around them was deafening as Hermione lunged forward, shoving Harry hard and watching as he stumbled backwards, landing on the steps of Grimmauld Place, just inside of the protective charms hiding it from view. Hermione felt a momentary flutter of relief, but it was shattered as Ron barrelled into view and directly towards her, bellowing her name with his wand raised as the six wizards surrounding them shouted as one.

" _Stupefy_!"


	29. Revelio

**A/N: Sorry about the cliffhanger last chapter! I hope this installment will make up for it. Have a lovely week, dear friends!**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Nine: Revelio**

 **August 7, 1997**

" _Protego!_ " Hermione and Severus spoke simultaneously, throwing up their shields as one. Hermione was able to extend hers just enough to include Ron, still several feet from her, but within the circle of wizards surrounding them. The stunning spells ricocheted off of the glittering shields they had raised, making her wand shake with the force of maintaining it against the onslaught.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, raising his wand and casting his own protective charm, allowing her to drop hers momentarily to shoot a stunning spell of her own at the nearest black cloaked Death Eater. The red jet of light hit him in the chest, knocking him back and into the street. She barely had time to block the next slew of curses thrown at her as streams of multi-colored light emitted from Severus's wand, lashing at the men surrounding them and keeping them occupied long enough for Hermione to shout at Ron.

"Keep him inside!" she ordered, using magic to propel the redhead backwards towards Grimmauld Place and the protective enchantments surrounding it. Unfortunately, neither Ron nor Harry seemed to think abandoning her was an option, because within moments both were barreling forward and into the fray, their wands raised to deflect curse after curse the Death Eaters were casting at them. Hermione did not dare to chance to glance behind her, but from what she could see Severus was keeping three masked Death Eaters at bay with slicing hexes she knew were not the worst he could do. Still, he could hardly kill the men attacking them if he wanted to stay in the Dark Lord's good graces.

A stinging line of fire wrapped around Hermione's upper arm and she hissed at the contact, sparing a glance down at the blood blossoming from the thin deep cut just below her shoulder. Behind her, she heard Severus growl and felt his cloak brush against her back as he whirled around and shot a curse she did not recognize over her shoulder and at the Death Eater who had managed to land a hex on her. The jet of orange light hit the man square in the stomach, and Hermione watched as he began to scream and claw at his robes. The two Death Eaters on either side of him paused in their attacks on Harry and Ron and began shielding instead as they watched their fallen comrade, while Severus turned back to continue fighting the three wizards at her back.

Hermione watched in horror as the man Severus had hit fell to the pavement, finally managing to tear his robes away from his skin and watching as charred and melted flesh was ripped away with the fabric. The curse, it seemed, imitated fire, and as they all watched in terror it crept outwards from the point of impact, devouring new flesh at it spread.

" _Stupefy_ ," said Hermione, taking the opportunity to stun one of the men mesmerized by his companion's fate before petrifying the other and turning her back on Harry and Ron to help with the three remaining Death Eaters.

She and Severus fought well together. As she shielded, he would attack, and when he paused to deflect a curse she would redouble her efforts, sending hex after hex at the three dark wizards opposing them. Behind them, Harry and Ron bound the two wizards Hermione had stopped and watched in horror as the spreading curse reached the third's neck and he stopped screaming, his body convulsing silently instead.

A jet of light passed centimeters from Hermione's face, ruffling her hair and causing her hood to slip back to hang down between her shoulders. She scowled and sent a disarming charm at the wizard, noting as she did that he had stiffened and seemed to stop breathing. He blocked the spell she sent his way with some effort, but rather than returning another he dropped unceremoniously to his knees, prostrating himself as quickly as possible and pressing the nose of his mask into the ground, his shoulders shaking.

"My Lady," he cried, his voice terrified.

 _Shit_ , she thought as Severus stunned the man and the remaining two Death Eaters seemed to recognize her, faltering in their attacks long enough for Harry and Ron to stun them from where they stood.

"Hermione-" began Harry as she whirled to face him, a look of complete confusion on his face at what had just happened. But before he could say more, before Hermione could make something up or beg him to listen to her, several things happened at once.

Behind the boys, the door to Grimmauld Place opened, revealing Albus Dumbledore with a thunderous expression on his face, and behind Hermione a half dozen more Death Eaters apparated into the road, all with their wands extended, ready to curse them all. She had no time to think of an alternative course of action, and so without thinking Hermione whirled around.

"Stop!" she shouted, palms extended towards the Death Eaters. Beside her, Severus cursed, throwing up a shield between her and her father's followers, all of whom hesitated upon seeing the Dark Lord's daughter, a girl they had all been guaranteed was worth more than the lot of them combined, standing between them and their prey. Things moved quickly after that. Dumbledore stepped forward, grabbing Harry and Ron by the shoulders and dragging them back up the steps of Grimmauld Place. Hermione had only enough time to see the twin looks of shock and betrayal on Harry and Ron's faces before they disappeared from view, and she was left in the middle of the street with her husband and six confused Death Eaters.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Numb. She was numb. From her face down to her toes, she could feel nothing. One word echoed in her mind.

 _Stop_.

Was it really that easy for the last semblance of normalcy in a person's life to come crashing down around them? Was one word enough to betray her darkest secret to the people she had done all of this to protect? What was the use? What was the point? What the hell had she been thinking when she had agreed to such a foolish plan? Severus had told her, the very first time Dumbledore had suggested it all.

 _Of all the ridiculous and foolhardy things you and your brain-addled Gryffindor friends have done, this is the most idiotic._

And he had been right. He was always right. Neither Harry nor Ron would ever forgive her. She had done nothing to help, save sparing the life of a wizard who was now so ill that she wasn't sure he was contributing much of anything to her two best friends in their search for Voldemort's remaining Horcruxes. And what could she achieve now? There was no going back, not with her cover so spectacularly blown. Even if Dumbledore explained things to him, Harry would always wonder why _she_ hadn't been the one to confide her secrets in him, why she hadn't been able to just trust him with the truth from the beginning. It would have made things so much more simple, had he known, and who was she to say he would have reacted poorly towards her? Had it been her concern for him which had stayed her, or her own insecurities and unwillingness to even contemplate endangering her friendships? Well, she'd fucked that up royally, hadn't she?

Her thoughts turned guiltily towards Severus. After Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore had disappeared back into the confines of Grimmauld Place, Severus had sworn and raged at the Death Eaters in the street. She couldn't remember anything he had said, she had been too preoccupied with the betrayal she had just seen scrawled across her best friend's face to pay much attention to the aftermath of her actions, but when he had finished he had taken her by the arm and side-along apparated her to the keep. She had been dragged to their rooms and deposited there, into the care of Pippy the house elf, who Severus had summoned and then promptly abandoned to go and make his report to the Dark Lord.

Was he being punished for her idiocy? Was he being made to suffer as Bellatrix had been made to suffer when she had allowed the Malfoys to escape? Was the Dark Lord angry with her for failing at the task he had set her, for being exposed? Would she be at the end of his wand next, finally having exhausted the bounds of his patience with her?

"Mistress is needing be tilting her head back now," Pippy spoke from beside the tub where Hermione sat, her knees folded up against her and arms wrapped around her shins. The sound of the little elf's high pitched voice startled her, bringing her out of her thoughts and back to the present. Hermione tilted her hair back, allowing Pippy to pour warm water from the large white pitcher she was levitating onto her hair, rinsing the soapy lather she had worked into the curls out and into the bath to swirl around Hermione in frothy rounds. When she was done, Hermione let Pippy pull her out of the water and wrap her in a large towel before leading her into the bedroom where she sat her at the vanity and began drying her hair.

"You has nice hair," said Pippy, her voice more forceful than Hermione remembered from their last meeting. "Missy Nora has hair just like it when she is living with Pippy. Just lighter. Pippy fix it in a jiff." And she did, setting aside the now damp towel she had used to siphon most of the water out of the curls, and snapping her fingers. Hermione's tresses seemed to relax at once, drying and softening just the right amount before flowing around her shoulders beautifully. Hermione only blinked at her reflection in the mirror, unable to really focus enough to appreciate anything about herself.

She moved in a haze from the vanity to the bed after that, where Pippy tucked her in without saying anything more before leaving. The soft pop of the elf's apparition startled her and Hermione found herself looking around the empty room. It was beautifully appointed and comfortable, and just then she couldn't have cared less about how gorgeous the decor was or how finely made the duvet felt against her skin; all she wanted was to rewind the clock and fix the things that had gone wrong just an hour before. If only Harry had stayed on the stoop, if only Ron hadn't come running out to protect her after the Death Eaters had apparated in, in response to the taboo.

She didn't realize she had started crying until she felt the pillow, damp against her cheek. Somehow, the sensation seemed to unlock whatever had been holding still inside of her, whatever corner of her soul that had been holding its breath and waiting to be let out in a flood of tears and heaving sobs.

Severus found her curled beneath the covers in the middle of the bed, her hair stuck to her cheeks and beginning to friz out around her. Her shoulders shook and she held her arms over her stomach as if she were physically injured. As he watched her fall to pieces he sat down beside her, not hesitating as he reached out and pulled her up into his arms so that her tears fell onto his chest.

"Hush," he soothed, stroking her hair as she sobbed into his robes, her hands clutching the black fabric tight in her fists as her heart broke. "Hermione, it will be alright, I promise you," he said, his voice low as he murmured into the top of her head. "Right now, you feel as if your world is ending, but tomorrow the sun will rise and you will be alive. You will leave these rooms, and you will make the best of what has happened…" his voice trailed off as she began to quiet in his arms, responding to the soothing timbre of his voice. "You will be magnificent," he whispered, "because you are incapable of anything less, and you will find that what has happened has not ended anything you cannot bear to lose."

"I can't lose them," she said, gasping as she spoke.

"You can," Severus countered, his voice steely but not unkind. "You are capable of more than you imagine. The loss of a friendship or two is as nothing to you."

"You overestimate me."

"I do not," he said, sounding slightly offended at the idea that he might give her more credit than she deserved. "Besides, you will not lose them over this, not in the long term."

"Of course I will," she said, hiccoughing and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She was a complete mess, she realized. "Harry will never understand! He-"

"Loathe as I am to admit it, Potter has many failings, but disloyalty does not seem to be among them. When he is made aware of the full extent of what you have done, of the position thrust upon you… I do not think he will abandon you."

"But Ron-"

"Is a hot-tempered buffoon, as in love with himself as it is possible for one of his background to be… but I do not think he will forsake you either, in the end. Your story does not end here, Hermione, any more than mine ended when I took this mark." He held his left forearm out, placing her hand on top of his sleeve, over the spot she knew the Dark Mark was etched. "Life continues, and we must remind ourselves that after the bleakness, there is light. Besides, you have an advantage, though your plans have been altered."

She looked up at him then; her tears had dried, leaving her face a soaking, splotchy mess in their wake. "What's that?" she asked. Severus smiled at her then, despite the travesty which was her complexion, and wiped the tears from her cheeks with one thumb.

"You have me," he said, "And as hated as you may be when word of your position reaches the masses, you will never be as loathed as the bat of the dungeon."

Hermione laughed, she couldn't help herself, and as she did so she felt Severus pull her closer and sighed. She was very lucky, she thought, to have him.

"Now," he said, his voice far more firm now as he spoke, "I think it is time you dry these tears and begin to focus not on what has gone wrong, but on the opportunities this turn of events has afforded you."

"Opportunities?" She echoed.

"Yes. You will not be of much use to the Dark Lord as a spy any longer, but this only means you will begin to be more enmeshed in his ranks."

"I fail to see how that is an opportunity," she said, pulling away from him and sitting up straight in the bed. Severus adjusted his robes, waving his hand and drying the wet patch she'd left over his chest wandlessly.

"Gryffindor that you are, I'm sure you don't," he said sardonically, "But just because the Dark Lord will want to keep you from Dumbledore from now on, does _not_ mean that you are unable to pass information to him. You have the advantage, after all, of being married to me. The things you learn will still find their way to Potter's aid, and being drawn deeper into your father's company will give you plenty of opportunity to watch and listen."

"You act as if being exposed to Harry means my father is going to out me to the world," she said a bit nervously. Severus watched her speculatively for several moments, his head tilted to the side as if he were trying to gauge what her reaction might be to whatever it was he had to say next. At last, he spoke.

"He might," he said, "We cannot tell yet. I think he means to align you firmly with our side at the very least. Your relationship to him may remain a secret for now, given that he is still operating in the shadows behind a puppet government… but I do not think he will allow your reputation to remain untarnished among those you call friends. He will want you isolated and vulnerable to the companionship of those he wishes you to befriend."

"The Death Eaters," she said flatly. Severus nodded.

"So I can expect that the order will be made aware of my position."

"Yes," answered Severus, "And while I think Dumbledore will assure them that your loyalties remain with Potter… Well, if they know that we are linked, they will have a difficult time seeing past our relationship."

"What utter bollocks," said Hermione, irritated that the Order seemed to distrust Severus so completely that even the word of Albus Dumbledore, the man they all revered, was not enough to suppress their fears of betrayal. "It's a wonder they're able to trust _anyone_ the way that lot carries on. Closed minded prats."

Severus let out a bark of laughter at her epithet, his eyes sparkling as the corners of his mouth tilted upwards and he let his shoulders drop down, the tension easing from them. Seeing him relax did much to help Hermione as she fought to work through the anxiety enveloping her. She focused on his breaths for a while, on the way his brow seemed to unknot and his jaw unclench. She smiled despite the still overwhelming feelings of inadequacy and disappointment threatening to overtake her, and that act alone drained much of the negativity away, leaving her with a warm feeling in her chest that seemed to bloom as he smiled at her.

"Thank you," she said, leaning forward impulsively to press her lips to his. His eyes fluttered shut as she kissed him, and she realized that he didn't seem repulsed by the fact that her eyes were leaking and her nose was a snotty, running mess. She wondered briefly whether that meant something before dismissing the thought and letting herself feel the heat of his mouth against hers and his breath on her face as she finally pulled away.

"Hmm," he responded, not bothering to say more as he undressed and then climbed into the bed beside her, letting her snuggle up against his side as they both fell asleep.


	30. Madame Snape

**A/N: How do you feel about an early chapter. Good? Good. Warning, Lemons ahead. Also a warning that this is a lighter chapter before I dive back into the darkness that is Hermione's life. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do.**

 **Beta Love: FaceofPoe**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty: Madame Snape**

 **August 8, 1997**

The next morning Hermione was in a far better state than she had been the night before. The shock of being revealed to her friends had dulled somewhat as she had slept, and she was left only with a vague sense of regret and a sadness that, while it was not pleasant, was tempered by a sense of hopefulness about the future, and did not threaten to overwhelm her as it had after their return. She looked across the breakfast table at Severus and was grateful for his comforting words and embrace the night before; she had a very strong suspicion that the optimism she was feeling this morning could be directly attributed to them.

"You're in a far better mood this morning," Severus commented, taking a bite of his eggs and then studying her questioningly as he chewed. Hermione only shrugged. "You are my wife, are you not?" He continued when he received no response, "You aren't Bellatrix polyjuiced to find out my deepest secrets?"

Hermione made a face at that.

"Honestly, I'm trying to eat. Can we leave the nauseating topics for after?"

Severus only smirked and dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin as his face settled into a serious expression once more.

"I'm only worried that—" But what he was worried by Hermione did not hear, because before he could finish his thought there was a loud pop and Pippy appeared at the table-side, a silver tray in her hands hoisted up above her head.

"I is bringing the post," said Pippy, avoiding Severus's glare and offering the tray to Hermione, who took it and set it on the table top beside her bowl of sugared oatmeal.

"Thank you, Pippy, that will be all," she said, dismissing the elf who disappeared with a little curtsy and another loud pop.

"That elf has the worst timing," muttered Severus as Hermione lifted a thick envelope from the tray, turning it over in her hands and catching sight of the Hogwarts crest before tearing it open eagerly.

"Severus, I think it's my N.E.W.T. results!" she exclaimed, drawing the thick, folded parchment from the envelope's interior. She unfolded it eagerly, looking down at the handwritten results with delayed trepidation before finally frowning and setting the letter down on the table.

"Well?" asked Severus, his voice and expression unreadable, "Did your results suffer from having taken them a full year ahead of schedule?"

"Hmm?" said Hermione, looking preoccupied as he glanced up and in his direction. "Oh, no, not too badly I suppose. It could have been so much worse, really."

"Indeed? Will you hold me in suspense for much longer, or will I be privy to these apparently lackluster results?"

Hermione made a face and handed him the parchment, looking morosely down at her oatmeal as he perused the results. As he read, he arched a brow, and when he was done he set the paper down beside his own plate. "Yes," he said dryly, "I can see why you'd be disappointed."

"I had just hoped to do better," said Hermione, frowning once more.

Across from her, Severus let out a strangled, impatient sort of sound and rolled his eyes.

"You are completely ridiculous," he said. "You are perfectly aware that you've broken several school records, and yet you still have the audacity to sit there and act disappointed?"

"I didn't beat _your_ record," she said, making a face, "You scored higher than me in Potions, and I only got an E in Defense."

"I'm sure all of the other unrepentant swots in the world will mourn with you when you meet at your yearly 'Over-Achievers' Convention.'"

Hermione shot a glare in Severus's direction at that and reached for the newspaper still lying untouched upon the silver tray. She did not put much store by what she read in it, considering she knew for a fact the owner had been imperiused by Thorfinn Rowle a week before, but both she and Severus thought it important to keep abreast of the lies Voldemort was feeding to the Wizarding public. She unfolded it, opening her mouth to tell Severus that she had hoped for all Outstandings, but all that came out was a gasp.

"What is it?" asked Severus, brows raised in concern as she stared down at the _Daily Prophet_ in shock. She did not answer, she could not think what to say, and as she sat staring in silence, Severus grew impatient, snatching the paper out of her hands so that he could see the cover story.

There, emblazoned at the very top of the page in large, shimmering print, were the words, " _New Headmaster Weds"._ Below that, a large photograph of Severus and Hermione dancing at The Keep nearly a month before, was plastered. Hermione was looking up at Severus, smiling widely and looking breathless as he spun her around the dance floor in what looked like a waltz. The black dress she had worn that night dipped down to her rear in the back, and with every twirl the pale expanse of her back was shown to the entirety of the wizarding world.

"Where the hell did they get that picture?" said Hermione, panicking slightly but still managing to keep from completely losing her mind.

"This was our first visit to Midlothian," mused Severus, ignoring her question.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," retorted Hermione, snatching the paper out of his hand and standing agitatedly.

Severus looked up at her and she noted that the bastard actually looked amused by her reaction.

"Is something funny?" she snapped, glaring down at him defiantly and daring him to test her.

He cleared his throat and schooled his features into an appropriately disgruntled mask. "Of course not," he said quickly, and though she caught the corner of his mouth twitching, she said nothing, choosing instead to take the paper from the small dining room and into their sitting room, where she took up residence in Severus's arm chair and opened the thrice damned _Daily Prophet_ to read.

When Severus finally followed her, she had finished with the article, throwing it down onto the end table with disgust and fixing herself a brandy which she was enthusiastically sipping by the fire.

"Was the article as flattering as the photograph?" asked Severus after a few minutes.

Hermione made a noncommittal noise and took another sip of her drink. Sighing, Severus sat in his arm chair and read the paper for himself, setting it aside when he was done and joining Hermione by the fireplace. He let her finish her brandy before speaking again. His voice was stiff.

"I had not realized being publicly linked to me would drive you to drink," he said.

Hermione shot him an impatient look at lifted her glass to her mouth before realizing it was empty and setting it above the mantle. "It's not about you," she said shortly.

"Hmm."

" _Hmm_? What kind of response is that?"

It was Severus's turn to scowl now as he responded. "The kind of response a man gives his ridiculously emotional child-bride."

"I. Am. Not. A. Child," she said through gritted teeth.

"Really? Perhaps I was confused by your juvenile reaction to a flattering article."

"Flattering?! Is that what you think?"

"It's a sight better than what Skeeter wrote about you in your fourth year."

"You read that filth?" asked Hermione, sounding dismayed.

" _Everyone_ read it," answered Severus.

"Don't tell me you actually believed that that awful woman—"

"Of course I didn't believe it," sneered Severus before she could finish her thought, "I hardly thought you capable of enticing the blithering idiot, Potter; I had no doubt you would be completely incapable of wooing an international Quidditch star."

Hermione stilled, her back stiffening as her hand twitched and she tried hard to keep herself from grabbing her wand and hexing the vexing man beside her.

"You can be a real bastard," she breathed instead, turning her back on him and stalking back towards the bedroom. He followed, leaning against the door frame and folding his arms as she reached her nightstand and grabbed the book she'd left there the morning before.

"Are you planning on enlightening me as to what about that article offended you so?" he questioned.

Hermione sent him a scathing look and sat down on the bed, swinging her legs up and leaning against the pillows piled in front of the headboard.

"I suppose you'd like me to guess," said Severus, making an unpleasant face as he spoke. Hermione only ignored him, cracking her book and letting it fall open across her lap. "Very well then," said Severus, entering the room and taking a seat on the lone arm chair on Hermione's side of the bed. "Was it the fact that your name didn't appear until the second half of the article? No? What about the fact that they barely mentioned you were the top of your class? Wrong again? Can it be the picture they chose? I noticed as you turned the camera caught an unflattering angle and your chin looked—"

"Severus Snape, you arse!" cried Hermione, "I'm not upset about the stupid picture or the fact that they spoke of me as little more than the pretty trophy wife you'd managed to woo."

"Then what, pray tell, has got your knickers in such a twist?"

"Don't talk about my knickers."

"Oh, are we pretending I'm not familiar with them now?"

"You're a prat."

"And you're a swot. Neither point is particularly groundbreaking. Now stop avoiding the question, and tell me- What. Is. Bothering. You?"

She let out a strangled sort of sound and slammed her book closed tossing it onto the other side of the bed and grabbing Severus' pillow. She chucked it at him with as much might as she could muster.

"I'm upset," she cried as he deftly caught the pillow and tossed it to the side, "because they said I was a _halfblood_." She spat out the word as if it were venom in her mouth. Severus raised a brow and seemed about to speak when Hermione interrupted him. "Yes, I'm aware you're a half-blood, and there's nothing wrong with that, but you've never been a muggleborn before!"

"Am I supposed to lament the fact?"

"No, you great greasy git! But ever since I first discovered this world, I've been a muggleborn! I bought my wand from Ollivander's while people like the Blacks and Lestranges stared down their perfect pure-blood noses at me! I went to school and was called a mudblood by more people than I could count. I excelled there so that every prick like Draco Malfoy, and every fucking Slytherin in the dungeon—you included!—would know that they had been bested by a dirty blooded muggleborn! And now that's been ripped away from me by some sexist news article that refers to me only as "The New Madame Snape, a talented halfblood who will be working at Hogwarts alongside her husband, the Headmaster."

She was breathing hard by the time she'd finished speaking and was scowling at Severus as though he had been the one to pen the article himself. He stared at her for almost a full minute, seeming to weigh his options before he finally spoke.

"Alright," he said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, not quite trusting Severus' easy aquiesence. "Alright, what?" she asked, suspicious.

Severus sighed, sounding beleaguered. "Alright, I understand. Must we continue to discuss it, or might it be possible for us to move on?"

"Move on? Severus _you're_ the one who kept asking me what bothered me about the stupid—"

"Really, Hermione, do you never tire of living in the past?"

If she hadn't seen the sparkle in his eye, she might have continued arguing with him after that, but as it was, she noticed the damned twinkle and realized at once that he was now _goading_ her.

"Severus Snape, you _toad_!"

"Madame, I'm not sure what I've done to deserve such—"

The pillow she sent zooming at his face with a flick of her wand muffled the rest of his sentence and she tackled him while he was occupied with it. They both fell to the floor, Severus letting out a loud 'oof' as his back slammed against the hardwood and Hermione landed atop him.

"Why you little—" But she kissed him before he could insult her, nipping his lower lip and giggling as her mood shifted completely. He reached a hand around to pinch her bottom before grasping her hips and settling her over him so that she could feel his quickly hardening length beneath her. Her laughter soon turned to a gasp as he ground up between her thighs and she felt a hot spark of desire ignite within her.

"Little what?" she whispered into his ear as she leant over him, brushing her breasts against his chest. Even through her brassiere and the clothes they both wore, she could feel heat radiating off of him and her nipples hardened. When he did not respond, she undulated above him again, making sure to press her hips against his, angling them so that he could feel her glide over his sizable erection. He groaned and she nipped at his ear, reminding him that she had asked him a question.

"Little tease," he hissed, moving his hands up to cup her breasts before letting them fall down to extract his wand from his pocket and vanish every stitch of clothing between them.

He slid into her with little trouble, and as she moved above him he seemed to take great pleasure in watching her, his black eyes following the gentle movement of her breasts, the way they swayed when she leaned forward, resting her hands on her shoulders and pushing back against him so that she could feel that delicious, repetitive friction over her clitoris. She climaxed easily and he smiled, wrapping an arm around her as she slumped over his chest and laid her cheek against his shoulder, breathing hard.

"Hermione," he chided, "you can't possibly expect that we're finished." He rolled them over after that, managing to keep himself inside of her as they shifted, still stiff and deep. And he moved. Slowly. He ground against her, watching her face for every sign that what he was doing affected her. And it did affect her. When she came again she muffled her cry against his shoulder, biting into it as he stilled and she closed her eyes tight, the sensations threatening to carry her off completely into madness.

"Such a very good girl," Severus murmured against the skin of her chest as he withdrew and began to work his way down her body. She shivered and cried out as he laid wet kisses over her pebbled nipples and down over her belly, until his tongue was tracing just above her mound. "I think you can give me more, though," he said, and then buried his face between her thighs, licking and sucking until she was sobbing with every breath and climaxed against his tongue.

"Severus please, I can't. I can't anymore. Please, please, please," but either he could not hear her or did not want to stop because as her words turned into incoherent babbling, her hands clenched in his hair and she orgasmed a fourth time, her thighs pressing on either side of his head as her back rounded and her shoulders clenched tight before releasing. The almost unbearable pleasure burst violently within her, like a wave crashing against a shore, it swept her farther away from herself as she screamed and then pressed back into the floor, arching her back up and tearing at Severus' hair between her thighs.

He finally pulled away from her after that, his mouth and chin glistening with her arousal as he kissed her thigh.

"I'm not sure I've ever seen you look more beautiful than you do now," he whispered almost reverently as he moved to lay beside her, his gaze sweeping up and down her flushed body appreciatively as she continued to pant.

"Severus," she said as her heart finally slowed and she found herself capable of coherent speech. She rolled to her side to face him and smiled widely. "I'm more than a pretty face."

If her declaration confused him, her sudden movement and the feel of her mouth closing enthusiastically over his still swollen cock cleared up any questions he may have had. And she could tell by his reaction that she was right, as lovely as he may have found her looks, they seemed to pale in comparison to the exquisite sensation of her mouth and tongue milking him to his own, earth-shattering orgasm. As he climaxed and the salty taste of it splashed against her tongue, she felt a great deal of satisfaction that she had been able to pay him back in kind for the pleasure he had given her.

Afterwards, though it was just after breakfast, Severus fell asleep beside her on their bed. She watched him as they laid there, his thick black lashes still above the high cheek bones which would have defined his face if not for his prominent nose. When he slept and his face wasn't painted by a scowl, he was really rather handsome, she thought, though she did wonder whether the observation had more to do with his physical features or the fact that she'd grown quite fond of him in the past few months. Her heart fluttered as the admission and she rolled onto her back.

Of course she'd grown fond of him, she chided herself, she'd been making love with him for over two months now, and spending a great deal of time sharing space with him aside from that during that same time. Still, she had to admit that what she felt for him now was more than the tolerance of a roommate, or even the chaste affection of a friend. She desired him in a way that was almost wholly consuming. Even when he annoyed her, which was often (and she had a feeling, often on purpose), she wanted to be near him, to discuss whatever it was that was bothering him and to find a way to fix it. She found herself attracted to him at the oddest times: when he was swearing over a spoiled potion, when he intimidated others, when he threw back his head and laughed in abandon, even when he was teasing her. And the attraction was more than physical. When she was in distress, he was the one she wanted to comfort her. And he had, every time. He was the one helping to hold her together when her life was falling apart, the one reminding her of her worth, of her capabilities when she felt smaller than ever before. He was her companion, her lover, her friend… and she cared for him. She cared for him in a way that was new and different and terrifying. It was more than the feelings of a girl fascinated by her protector, because the longer she knew him, really knew him, the more she understood that she didn't _need_ his protection. She was capable, talented, and strong independent of his support… but she valued him, longed for him, wanted him near her to share in her joy and in her sorrow. He was not necessary to her survival… but she'd be damned if she'd want to live without him any longer, not when being with him made her better, made her happier, made her complete.

 _Oh god_ , she thought, _oh bloody fucking hell shit damn bugger. I'm in love with him_.


	31. My Lady

**A/N: Thank you all for your patience. This chapter fought me every inch of the way, but I am pleased with the finished product. I hope you are too. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-One: My Lady**

 **August 8, 1997**

 _Oh god, she thought, oh bloody fucking hell shit damn bugger. I'm in love with him._

A sharp hiss at her side made Hermione jump guilty, distracting her as she turned in time to see Severus sit upright in the bed, his eyes wide, his right hand clutched over his left forearm.

"The Dark Lord," he said, his voice hoarse with the pain. Hermione winced and nodded, shoving all thoughts of any feelings she may or may not have to the back of her mind as he rose and motioned for her to join him. "He'll want to see us both," he told her.

They dressed quickly, Severus putting on his Death Eater robes but forgoing the mask. Hermione took little care with her appearance other than to twist her hair up into a messy bun and don a pair of beautifully embroidered black day robes she thought were very 'Dark Lord's Daughter', before they were leaving the rooms and making their way down to the ballroom.

Her heeled boots clicked against the marble floor as they entered and approached her father. The Dark Lord sat upon his stately obsidian throne, robed all in black and surrounded by eleven masked Death Eaters, all kneeling before him, heads bowed. The twelfth, Hermione knew, had not survived the curse Severus had hit him with, and had died gasping in front of Grimmauld Place.

"Severusss, so good of you to join usss," Voldemort hissed. The sound seemed to carry throughout the room, echoing abnormally until Hermione noticed Nagini wrapped around the base of her master's chair, hissing at the men kneeled around her.

"My Lord," Severus bowed low but did not drop to his knees, waiting only until Voldemort waved a hand before standing upright again.

"And Hermione," he continued, ignoring Severus as he turned his red gaze on the lone woman in the room. "I am glad to see you are well this morning. I understand you were injured yesterday evening?" Hermione, who had not been expecting an inquiry about her health, only nodded. "Well, it seems you were healed with little trouble. Still, I am displeased that such a thing was necessary. I would not have even a drop of your blood spilled without my permission."

"I'll try to do a better job of fending off your servants in the future," said Hermione dryly. The slits of Voldemort's nostrils seemed to flare in response.

"Yes, it is my wayward companions who we have gathered to discuss."

"Discuss, or torture?" asked Hermione, who had not missed the fact that several of the men in front of her seemed to be trembling. She wondered whether they were kneeling only to mask the fact that they lacked the strength to stand.

"Educate. Can one really torture a wayward pupil when they seek only their student's improvement?"

"Yes," Hermione answered without hesitation.

"It is not as if every man here today did not understand to whom they were submitting when they made the choice to wear my mark." Voldemort waved a hand casually at one of the men kneeling before him. The Death Eater groaned aloud and fell forward onto his hands in response, looking as though he had been punched in the stomach. The mask on his face slid off and clattered against the marble floor. "Isn't that right, Yaxley?"

"Yes, My Lord," the man cried in response. Hermione could see him struggling to breathe, his face red as he nodded and kept his eyes downcast.

"You see? They come to me hoping I will teach them, that I will elevate them; and so I must be firm, to ensure the results we both so greatly desire."

"People do better, when they feel better," said Hermione, remembering the explanation her mother had given her as a child, when she had asked why she was never spanked when she misbehaved like her classmates seemed to be.

Beside her, Severus chuckled.

"Do you have something to add?" asked Voldemort.

Severus gave The Dark Lord a conspiratorial look as he spoke.

"Only that my bride is as naive as she is beautiful."

Voldemort chuckled and nodded.

"Yes," he agreed, "I suspect this charming failing has a great deal to do with the fact that I did not have a hand in her upbringing as I had desired… Still, that is an error easily rectified. Come here, Hermione."

She froze for several seconds before she felt Severus' hand at her elbow, guiding her through the kneeling men and forward. She focused on his touch, pretending for just a moment that he was the man she knew in the privacy of their rooms rather than the Death Eater who had brought her to the Dark Lord. When they reached Voldemort, Hermione met his gaze, giving him a challenging look that he acknowledged with an almost amused glint.

"The secret to education," he said, loud enough that everyone in the room could hear, "Is that people learn to do better when they fear doing worse. Shall I help you to understand the point? Perhaps some illustration is in order?"

For several moments, Hermione thought he was going to curse her, and when he turned his wand on one of the kneeling Death Eaters, her relief seemed to amuse him.

"You are far too valuable to educate so sternly," he said, "and I have been given to understand you are an apt pupil. I think you will learn quite well through observation. _Crucio_!" The man at whom the Dark Lord's wand was aimed fell from his knees to his back and began to writhe, gritting his teeth quite bravely until the agony became too much and his screams echoed throughout the splendid ballroom. On the walls, portraits watched, horrified but mute.

Hermione looked on dispassionately. When Lord Voldemort lifted his wand, the man's shrieks did not end. He continued to writhe, the immediate aftermath of the curse apparently almost as intense as the torture itself. After several minutes, he grew still, and the shouts which they had all heard echoing throughout the room quieted to steady whimpers.

"You will be more observant in the future, Dolohov, will you not?" Voldemort inquired genially.

The masked Death Eater nodded and said, "Yes, My Lord," in a hoarse, high pitched voice as he struggled to pull himself up to his hands and knees and crawled back to his place in the semi-circle. There he tried and failed to raise himself up off of his hands. He stayed where he was instead, on all fours, his face towards the floor as he failed to mask his sobs.

"There, you see?" continued Voldemort, "Having been soundly punished, our friend Antonin will not be so foolish as to repeat his mistake."

"Well, he'll certainly be less likely to tell you about any mistakes he makes in the future," Hermione said.

Beside The Dark Lord's throne, Nagini hissed. Voldemort responded, the inhuman, serpentine sounds of parsletongue far more menacing on his lips than it ever had been on Harry's.

"Nagini finds you impertinent, and tells me you could do with a few lessons yourself."

Hermione surveyed the snake and then shrugged.

"And I think she would make a stunning handbag. Not everyone gets what they want, do they?"

The Dark Lord barked out a chuckle as Nagini hissed angrily, patting her on the head and leaning back against his throne.

"I do," he corrected.

We'll see, thought Hermione, before Voldemort spoke again, motioning first to her and then the masked Death Eaters still on their knees.

"Now, it is my desire that you learn the value of punishment, and I find that such a thing is better understood from the point of view of the punisher. So, punish them."

The bottom dropped out of her stomach as the blood drained from her face, leaving her quite pale and frozen where she stood.

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me," hissed Voldemort, sounding impatient, "Punish them! Is it not your life we are trying to teach them the value of? Is your safety not worth the suffering of men you profess to despise?"

"I'm not going to torture someone just because you—"

"You will do what your father has commanded you to do," spoke Severus sharply from beside her, "Or must I remind you of who really holds the power between the two of us?" He raised a brow and Hermione glared at him, gritting her jaw and clenching her hands into fists at her side as she stood stubbornly still. Severus sighed.

"Such dramatics are hardly becoming of a woman of your stature, Hermione. Now, I _order_ you to—"

"Alright!" Hermione cried, cutting him off before he could finish speaking, cutting off the magical compulsion she knew he had been about to invoke. "Alright, you bastard." She withdrew her wand from the sleeve of her robes and holding it tightly in one hand as she whirled to face the men at her back. Her stomach turned as she picked one at random, pointing her wand at him and vanished his mask completely.

Lestrange. Rudolphus was stocky and of average height with dark brown hair and dull brown eyes. Honestly, he had struck her as fairly dim when she had had occasion to interact with him since she had first been presented to Voldemort. Of course, she supposed he'd have to be a bit stupid to have married Bellatrix Black. And everyone knew what they had gone on to do together. Hermione's eyes narrowed. She had a very good friend whose parents had been tortured into insanity by the man at her feet, and if she was very honest with herself, she did not pity him for what he was about to endure.

" _Crucio_ ," she said, her voice calm as the power behind the curse seemed to rush from the top of her head, down and out through her fingertips to the wand she held.

As it happened, Hermione was not bad at casting unforgivable's, and as she watched the man fall to his side and begin to convulse, she tried hard not to vomit the contents of her stomach onto the marble floor.

OoOoOoOoOoO

The next morning, Hermione sat for breakfast with a majority of the men she had tortured the day before. There were a few who had not been feeling up to eating in the dining room, and truth be told, Hermione had not been particularly thrilled about the idea either.

After she had finished Crucioing the last kneeling man and been dismissed by the Dark Lord with an affectionate pat on the back, she had retreated to her rooms, where she had promptly lost the contents of her stomach on the expensive looking rug in the sitting room. Severus had rushed to her side once the door was closed and warded, pulling her hair back and lifting her up as she had sobbed. He'd carried her into the bathroom and run her a hot bath, undressing her and putting her in the water to soak away her misery. When she had emerged, she was surprised to realize she did feel better. As she went about the rest of her day she was able to push the guilt she felt at having been pleased to hold such awful power over her father's henchmen, aside.

The same mental compartmentalization was not so easy now, as she tried to make polite conversation with the men.

"Travers, would you mind handing me the marmalade there by your wrist?"

The blonde man flinched at the sound of her voice and nodded quickly, grabbing the little bowl and setting it directly in front of her, refusing to look up the whole while. Hermione sighed.

"Thank you," she said, choosing another of the men at the table to address. "Rowle, how are you finding your stay here at The Keep?"

"Fine, M'Lady."

"Only fine?"

Rowle seemed to regret his choice of words immediately and made to backtrack before Hermione held a hand up to stop him.

"Fine is perfectly acceptable," she said, feeling resigned. Apparently, the men surrounding her were so terrified of her now they thought she was liable to curse them for their word choice. The idea made her sick to her stomach and she exhaled, pushing her dry toast away. Curse Severus and his stupid idea that she join the Death Eaters for a meal to 'attempt to lessen any animosity they harbored.' The only way she would ever make them feel more positively towards her would be if she let them each return the favor she had paid them the day before.

"What are you doing here?" The voice coming from the dining room entrance was harsh and clipped, but distinctly feminine. Hermione held her breath for a moment as she recognized it, and then exhaled, turning to face the woman standing combatively behind her.

"Bellatrix. How lovely to see you this morning. I hadn't realized you were here," she greeted the black haired witch, fighting to keep her tone neutral.

"I imagine there are many things you don't realize," the older witch scoffed, entering the room and taking the empty seat at the opposite end of the table, "That guests normally dine alone here, for example."

Hermione shrugged. "I am fairly certain I'm welcome to dine wherever I please in my own home."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes visibly and made a disgusted noise but did not speak.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Perhaps it was petty of her to intentionally engage the insane woman, but for some reason she felt as if it were necessary. "You disagree?" she asked, keeping her tone icy. The men around them, including Bellatrix's husband, Rodolphus, all seemed to shrink into their seats at her question.

"I think the stench of your filthy, muggle upbringing obscures any knowledge you might gain about our pureblood customs," answered Bellatrix defiantly, spearing a chunk of meat off of the nearest platter and biting into it without bothering to set it on her plate first.

Hermione made a face. "Really, Bella, that's nauseating. You could at least try to act like a lady if you're going to insist on lecturing me about custom and tradition."

Bellatrix cackled and continued to eat what looked like bacon with her fingers, forgoing the fork completely. "You think My Lord cares whether I'm ladylike? You think he values prettiness and manners? The Dark Lord values power and loyalty, you foolish girl."

"What a pity then, that you lack both in spades," taunted Hermione.

" _I_ , lack loyalty?" Bellatrix cried, looking truly offended at the idea, and as if she was liable to draw her wand. Hermione clutched her own beneath the table to be safe. "Why you stupid little bitch!"

"Language, Bella," said Hermione mildly. Beside his wife, Rodolphus stiffened and hissed at his wife.

"Hold your tongue, Bellatrix!"

"I will not have this stupid little child questioning my loyalty, Rodolphus! I spent over a decade in Azkaban, _rotting_ as we waited for our Lord to return—"

"Is that where the stench is coming from?"

This time, Bellatrix did draw her wand, turning it on Hermione who leveled her own at the older witch. Rodolphus, who seemed to have given up on his wife, was staring determinedly at his plate, both hands laying palm down on either side of it.

"I should kill you!"

"Do you really think that's the best way to get my father's attention again now that you're no longer his most trusted lap dog?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about you self-righteous little cunt! The Dark Lord has entrusted me with secrets you and your traitorous owner could never dream of! He has rewarded me more richly than any servant before had ever thought possible!"

"Oh," commented Hermione drolly, "Did he give you a castle too?"

" _Stupefy_!" shouted Bellatrix, just as Hermione shielded herself. She watched the spell ricochet off of the magical barrier and hit Rowle in the chest, causing the man to slump back in his chair unconscious.

"Enough!" came a harsh, clipped voice from the doorway. Hermione let her eyes flicker up briefly to catch sight of Severus standing there, a disapproving look on his face, as if he were disappointed in both Bellatrix and Hermione for their behavior. "The Dark Lord commands your presence, Bella. You would not want to keep him waiting."

Bellatrix seemed to war within herself for nearly a minute, glaring at Hermione but glancing past Severus as if she really did long to go to Voldemort's side. At last, she spat and lowered her wand.

"Keep your pet in line, Snape," she hissed as she swept past him, grabbing a croissant on her way out of the door. After she had gone, Severus gave Hermione a disapproving look before coming to sit beside her and serve his own breakfast.

Later, alone in their rooms, he spoke.

"I'm fairly certain I suggested you make small talk and peace with the Death Eaters, not draw your wand on their Lieutenant."

"It was a stupid idea to begin with," Hermione grumbled, settling onto the sofa with a book she'd borrowed from the library and refusing to look up at her husband. As she opened the spine of the tome though, a thought occurred to her and she paused, glancing at Severus, who had pulled out a potion text of his own and was sitting beside her, flipping idly through its pages.

"You know, I think Bellatrix might know about the Horcruxes."

Severus froze, his fingers holding a page mid turn, and then looked up at her. "What?" He asked, looking as though he was sure he had misheard her.

"I think Bellatrix knows about the Horcruxes. She said something before you came in, something about knowing secrets we couldn't imagine, and being richly rewarded. I think she might have been talking about what Voldemort did to his soul."

Severus closed his book, looking thoughtful. "You don't think it's more likely she was posturing?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I mean, you would know better than me, but she's been one of his most faithful servants since the first war. He gave Malfoy the diary; what if he gave Bellatrix another Horcrux? Do the Lestranges have a manor somewhere that the Dark Lord might have wanted to store a Horcrux?"

"No, but they've got a townhouse in London… and a high security vault in Gringotts." Severus was looking quite pensive now as he spoke. "If he gave her anything, I wager she'd store it there."

"So you think he might have given one of the Horcruxes to her?"

Severus shrugged, "I haven't a clue, but it isn't as if we have any other leads to follow. I'll tell Dumbledore of your suspicions when I see him next."

"Thank you," said Hermione, who felt useful for the first time in a long time.

"As we're sharing," Severus remarked, standing and and turning to look out of the sitting room window, avoiding her gaze, "I had a rather… baffling conversation with your father this morning when I saw him."

"What did he want?" asked Hermione, not properly sure she wanted to know the answer.

"To congratulate me on bringing you to heel—"

"That sexist piece of shit—"

" _And_ ," interrupted Severus, sounding exasperated, "To ask me how our more… intimate relationship is progressing."

"I'm sorry, but the way you said that, it sounded as if he was asking you about our sex life," said Hermione, confused. Severus turned to face her, looking uncomfortable as he gave a stiff nod and crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

"He _was_ asking about our sex life?" cried Hermione, standing up in surprise. "That's incredibly disturbing."

"Indeed. I wouldn't have mentioned it… but I was left with the impression he was asking for a purpose."

"Asking for a purpose? What the bloody hell does that mean?" Her voice was growing more high pitched with each word and Severus glanced at the door as if to check that it was still shut before speaking again.

"I think…" he hesitated, his face twisting into a confused expression for a moment before he spoke again, "I think he wants us to…" he let his voice trail off completely this time, looking a bit flustered as he refused to meet her gaze.

"He wants us to what?" asked Hermione, not catching his meaning. Severus sighed and looked back up, forcing himself to look her in the eye.

"To procreate," he said. "I got the impression he was interested in our fertility."

Hermione stared at him blankly for several seconds before shaking her head as if to clear it.

"I'm confused."

"Blast it, Hermione, must you make this so incredibly difficult?!" snapped Severus, "The Dark Lord asked me how often we were being intimate, and then asked me about your menses."

"He _WHAT_?!"

"Keep your voice down!"

"He asked you about my— that's awful! He had no right! Did you actually tell him?!" Severus gave her a withering look and then nodded stiffly. "You had no right!" Hermione cried.

"And should I have told him to mind his own business?" Severus said, sounding murderous, "If you had wanted to become a widow you could have informed me before and such a response would have made all your dreams come true."

"Don't you make light of this."

"Make light of what, the fact that my wife apparently would rather see me dead than carry my offspring?"

Hermione's jaw dropped and she stared disbelieving at the stubborn expression on Severus' face, a look she knew now was simply a mask he wore rather than expose any hurt he might be feeling.

"Is _that_ what you think has upset me?" she asked in disbelief. "You are the most ridiculous, self-centered child on the face of the earth!"

"I beg your pardon?" said Severus, sounding and looking offended.

"Do you honestly think that I should be thrilled that You-Know-Who might want me to reproduce, just because the baby would be yours? Do you think that because I care about you I should want to complicate my life with a squalling little human, incapable of caring for itself?"

"Of course I don't think—"

"Should I be overjoyed at the prospect of the Dark Lord wanting my children to exist? At the idea that he might want them for something a little more nefarious then dandling on his knee?"

"Hermione, you've taken my words completely out of context, I—"

"Have I?" Hermione interrupted again, glaring at him, her arms crossed over her chest as she breathed harshly. "Because from where I'm standing, it sounded as if you didn't think I had a right to be upset about this."

"Of course you have a right," said Severus quickly.

"You're damned right I do," Hermione exclaimed. Severus, who looked slightly mollified, met her gaze.

"I'm sorry," he said, and then sat down on the sofa again, motioning for her to sit beside him. Hermione refused, standing stonily beside him and willing him to continue speaking. He did, before too long. "You're right, you have every reason to be upset if I was not mistaken… I had hoped to one day… but my wishes are of no consequence here. I will not let you be forced into—"

"You're so fucking dramatic," said Hermione, rolling her eyes and dropping onto the seat beside him.

"Excuse me?"

"Severus, it's not like I hate babies and never want to have any. We're bound together by magic that can't be broken, and one day, when I do decide to have children, I imagine they'll have black hair and hooked noses like their father… but I'm not ready for one day to be today. I can't be thrilled about the prospect of being forced to have a baby with you now when it would be the worst possible moment of my life."

She stared at him after she was done speaking, watched him study his lap and flex his fingers for several minutes as he seemed to think and she grew more anxious by the moment, until at last he spoke.

"I was, perhaps, letting my insecurities color my view of your reaction. I apologize." He seemed to force himself to look up at her then, meeting her gaze. "I could be wrong about what the Dark Lord wants," he offered, by way of apology.

"Do you think you are?" she asked, knowing what his answer would be.

"No."

"Right. I think we ought to start checking out drinks, for fertility potions."

Severus nodded. "I'll enchant a stone to change color in the presence of potions. You can wear it as a ring."

"Thank you." A stiff silence, and then, "What do you think he wants with a baby?"

"Salazar knows," Severus answered, exhaling as he settled against the back of the couch and Hermione leaned against his side. "But I'd be willing to wager it's nothing good."


	32. Expectations

**A/N: I think this is my shortest chapter yet, but its finished, which is what matters. I am impatient, so only one of my betas has finished looking this over. If there are errors, the fault is mine, and if they are glaring, I will come back and edit them. Thank you so much to the reviewers who have been letting me know they enjoy this story. Life has been busy lately and I haven't had much opportunity to respond, but I am reading and am encouraged by each one.**

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 **Chapter Thirty-Two: Expectations**

 **August 24, 1997**

The following two weeks were fraught with tension. Alone in their rooms, Hermione could pretend that the hateful looks sent her way by Bellatrix Lestrange, and the odd, long glances from Voldemort when they sat for meals together in the formal dining room, didn't exist. When she was in public, however, it was all she could do to pretend she didn't see them, staring at her plate in apparent boredom instead.

Severus, to his credit, had tried to give her space after he had made his suspicions known. It had lasted for two days, and then Hermione had tracked him down in the study where he had been hiding, told him he was being ridiculous, and dragged him to the library where they read in companionable silence, her hand on his thigh as she leaned back against his chest, a book splayed on her own lap. After that, they had not discussed what Voldemort's plans for her might be, and Hermione had tried not to think about it either, focusing instead on learning to wandlessly cast more powerful concealment charms, spells that would aid her in spying at The Keep in the future.

When Severus was summoned by Voldemort for the first time in over a fortnight, Hermione felt the tension she had been fighting to ignore return, her stomach clenching as she wondered nervously what her father might want from him— from them.

"Do you think this is about the…" she let her voice trail off, unable to voice her concern for fear of making it a reality. Severus' brow furrowed.

"I don't know. Possibly."

"But do you think he'll ask you to—"

"I don't know, Hermione!" This was said more sharply than she had expected, and was followed by a sigh. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to— I'm not sure how to handle this. I've never been put in a position like this before."

"I should hope not," Hermione commented dryly. Severus arched a brow and leaned down to peck her on the cheek before sweeping away and through the door with a billow of finely made black robes.

She waited, but not patiently. As the minutes on the clock ticked by, she fidgeted and fretted, trying and failing to distract herself with books and wandless magic before finally settling on a chair with a view of the door and clenching her fists together over her lap. She tried not to think too much as she waited, tried to avoid the thoughts that had been plaguing her since the morning after she had tortured some of Lord Voldemort's most trusted followers… but in the end she could not keep herself from examining them. The more she gave in, letting her mind supply a variety of gruesome scenarios, the worse she felt, until at last she was almost panicked, ready to spring up from her seat and run to find Severus and her father wherever they were and demand that she be included in whatever conversation they were having about her. Thankfully, she was saved from having to do so just as she stood when the sitting room door opened and Severus swept into the room.

"Thank God," she breathed, settling back onto her chair in relief before she bothered to examine his expression. When she did, her heart sank and her stomach turned. "What happened? Tell me!" she demanded, sitting forward stiffly, her hands fisted on either side of her thighs.

"I need a drink," was all he said as he waved a hand, simultaneously summoning a bottle of aged firewhiskey and conjuring a short tumbler that he half filled with the amber liquid before draining it completely.

"Severus, what did he say?" she asked again, watching him sink into the sofa across from her and refill the tumbler before offering her the bottle. Hermione took it wordlessly, not bothering to conjure her own glass as she lifted the mouth of the bottle to her lips and took a swig. It burned as she swallowed and trailed fire from the back of her throat to her stomach.

"Severus." She said his name as she watched him sip his drink and stare pensively at the wall behind her. Her voice seemed to remind him of her presence, because as she spoke his eyes snapped to her face and then looked down at his knees. She was about to speak again when his voice sounded, so low as to be nearly inaudible.

"I was right," he said, his face twisting into a sneer before he took another sip of his drink. Hermione fell back in her chair, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of her lungs. The bottle in her hand seemed to grow colder as her grip tightened, and when she finally looked down she was surprised to see that it had frosted over. She set it on the floor beside her and then fisted her hands in the fabric of her robes. She hadn't had a fit of accidental magic since she was a child, and that it would happen to her now was a testament to how very disturbed she was by the news.

"He wants me pregnant," she said, the words sounding far more matter-of-fact than she felt.

"Yes," answered Severus, draining his glass and dropping it onto the end table at his side.

"Did he say why?" Had he told Severus his plans or merely trusted that his loyal servant would sign his own child away to whatever plot Voldemort had in mind?

"No," he answered. Hermione felt a flare of annoyance she couldn't immediately tamp down.

"Did you even ask?" she questioned bitterly.

"Of course I asked," Severus answered, "But I am not a fool, and did not ask more than once. The Dark Lord did not see fit to share his plans with me."

"So, he thought he could just order you to do this without explaining himself? He's talking about a baby, not a begonia!"

Severus arched a brow and leaned forward in his seat. "Do you think the man who ordered me to assassinate the Minister of Magic would baulk at ordering me to impregnate you? He thinks himself a god, why would he question his right to both take and give life?"

"Because I'm his daughter!" cried Hermione, louder than she had intended. She sighed and reached down for the bottle at her side, flinching and withdrawing her hand quickly when it was too cold to handle. She swallowed and looked up at Severus, leaning forward now with her elbows resting on her knees. "I'm his daughter," she said, "I'm supposed to be important. Different."

"Are you disappointed that you aren't?" Severus asked, keeping his voice even.

Hermione scoffed. "No," she said, dropping her head into her hands. And then, "Maybe. I don't know. Oh God." Her voice broke and she felt a sob welling up inside of her that she struggled to suppress as her eyes began to sting. She should have known. She shouldn't have been so surprised at this. Hadn't Dolores Umbridge, that toadying little sycophant, seen Hermione for what she was to the Dark Lord? _We all know your place in this regime, and it is not one of power,_ she had said. And she had been right. If Hermione were powerful, Voldemort would hardly make her reproducing a priority. If his goal was to make her loyal to him, forcing her to bear the child of the man he'd magically bound her to couldn't contribute to kind feelings towards him. What was his purpose in all of this? What did he want from her really? And why was she thrown off balance by his obvious disregard for her? Had she become so entangled in playing the spy and Dark Lord's daughter that she had forgotten that it was all just an act? An act she could see now was probably pointless if what Lord Voldemort wanted from her was not loyalty, but a full womb.

"We're properly fucked, aren't we?"

Severus sighed. "We are not in a position of power. Your father—The Dark Lord… he holds the cards, and we are left with very few options."

"Are there even a few?" cried Hermione, her heart racing now as her eyes darted around the room. She could feel a rush of adrenaline flowing through her as she began to panic. "It seems as if the man you and Dumbledore gave me to has very specific plans, and they involve more than just showing off my heritage to benefit himself!"

"Hermione," he spoke her name in a calming voice as she practically leapt from her chair, one hand clutched over her heart and the other over her stomach, both of which seemed to be seizing within her. "Please, sit back down."

"I can't" she cried, feeling her fingertips begin to crackle with energy she knew to be magical. Severus caught her hand as she passed by him and a spark flared where their skin touched before passing from her and into him. He flinched only slightly and then grabbed her hand more firmly, drawing her down to sit on his lap and putting both of his arms around her so that she was nestled against his chest. She tried not to cry as he held her, but the tears came. He held her close as they did, reassuring her without words that to him, she was more than the Dark Lord's plot or the girl Dumbledore had saddled him with. It did not take her long to calm, and once she had, she spoke into his chest, her voice muffled but audible.

"Have I been acting the part for nothing?" she asked, "Did I torture those men for nothing?"

"You have done what the Dark Lord wished for you to do," Severus answered.

"But if all he wanted from me was this, if my only purpose from the start has been a pregnancy… then, Severus, the rest of it was because I chose to do it! This person I've been pretending to be, she's nothing to the Dark Lord! If it's my blood he values, then my loyalty is hardly necessary. I could have just been myself and not done the things I did. I compromised myself, my values, my friendships… all for nothing."

"Not for nothing," Severus spoke into her hair now, laying a kiss on the crown of her head. "Playing along has allowed you to gain more than playing the hostage would have. The information we passed to Dumbledore two weeks ago is proof of that. Saving the idiots Potter and Weasley at headquarters is further proof."

Was he right? Could she justify her effective use of the Cruciatus Curse on nearly a dozen men? Could she excuse thinking they had deserved it, or forgive enjoying the power she had felt at meting out justice for all of the many sins those men had committed? She wasn't sure it was that simple. Perhaps, such a thing could never be truly justified, only lived with. Was that the secret to Severus's bitterness and disdain? Self-loathing and shame?

"What are we going to do?" she asked, raising her face to peer up at him. He caught her gaze and then looked away quickly. Her stomach dropped.

"What aren't you telling me, Severus?"

"I am not hiding it," he said, looking away. "I didn't know how to tell you… but I can't keep it from you as the Dark Lord commanded."

"At this point, do you really think anything you have to say would shock me?" she questioned dryly. Severus sighed and his arms seemed to tighten around her.

"He has planned a fertility ritual for you. It will take place on Halloween."

She had been stupid and wrong. This was so much worse than she had imagined. An image of her mother splayed out across the menacing stone altar upon which Hermione had been conceived flashed in her mind and seared itself there. The men surrounding her, the moon hanging above, casting its cold light on the scene, as Lord Voldemort had availed himself between her thighs.

"Hermione?"

"I won't do it. I can't," she said bluntly.

Severus remained silent for several seconds before speaking firmly.

"No, you can't."

"What do we do?"

Severus shifted her atop his lap and settled her onto the sofa beside him. He took her hand in his, holding it tightly but refusing to meet her gaze.

"Disappear," he said, his voice void of emotions as he spoke. "If it is your desire, I will aid you in leaving this place and hide you where no one can find you."

"You can do that?" she asked, bewildered.

Severus nodded.

"I can," he paused for a moment and then spoke again, "Though such an act has a cost."

"A cost," echoed Hermione.

Again, Severus nodded, his face still carefully blank.

"What sort of cost?"

"Do you recall the conversation between yourself and your mother, the night you met the Dark Lord?"

"Of course I recall. I hardly think I could forget."

Severus looked at her now, his expression no longer blank, but pained.

"Then you will remember what she told you—about how she managed to elude the Dark Lord so efficiently."

Hermione thought for several seconds before she landed upon the answer, and as she did she sprang from her seat with a cry.

"What?! _That_ is my option? Get pregnant or give up my _magic_?!"

"Hermione, please, calm yourself so that we can—"

"Calm myself!? Severus, that's no option at all! I can't just give up the only bloody thing protecting me from my father and his fucking followers!"

"Blast it, Hermione, do you think I would suggest such a thing lightly!? I know the cost! It's a price I've considered paying more than once in my life, and I would have done it if doing so would not lose the Order it's only spy within The Dark Lord's inner circle."

"You've thought about giving up your magic? Your _magic_ , Severus?"

"Of course I have," he spat, standing as he began to pace, "when all it has ever brought me has been pain and death. I have envied every muggle I've ever met at times, from Lily's awful sister who spends her days gossiping and ridiculing others, to my own bastard father who never let me forget that his fist was more powerful than my love. Of course I have! To be free of the masters who demand all but give nothing in return? Yes, I have imagined giving my magic physical form only to crush it under foot…" He was breathing hard where he stood and closed his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Even now, I consider it, giving it all up to disappear with you into the anonymity of a peaceful muggle existence…" His eyes opened and peered down at her and she thought she saw sadness there. "It is not possible for me. I cannot abandon this cause to which I have dedicated my life. I will never be free of it. But you, Hermione, can be. You can be free of it all: the war, Dumbledore's manipulations, your friends' disappointments, your father's plans… even our bond. You can disappear with your muggle parents and build a new life for yourself, one unencumbered by the truth of your past or a husband who can offer you nothing but misery."

"You think I want to be free of you?" she asked, heart aching for the man in front of her even as she worried for herself.

"How can you not?" he said simply, settling into the empty chair she had occupied previously. "I was not your choice, and I will not pretend that I am a pleasant man."

"Pleasantness is over-rated," Hermione declared, shrugging when he looked up at her in shock. "If I decide to destroy my magic, Severus, doing away with our bond will not be a contributing factor. I've grown quite fond of your snarling lately, and I don't think I would enjoy losing access to it completely."

"You shouldn't make light of this," he snapped.

Hermione forced a weary smile, realizing as she did that his own agitation had calmed her panic and outrage remarkably well.

"I'm not," she said, and watched as the unflappable potion's master blushed. "In any case, I think hiding as my mother did must be a last resort. My life is here, in the wizarding world. Leaving it can't be my first option. It's who I am."

"It's your only option for avoiding this, Hermione," Severus sighed, "little though I like to admit it."

"It's not though," she said, drawing his confused gaze back to her again. "I can think of another."

"The Dark Lord will not allow you to flout his authority in this. He was quite insistent. If you attempt to hide by magical means he will find you and force you."

"Not if he's dead," said Hermione flatly.

Severus' brows furrowed as he scowled down at her in surprise. "And you've figured out how to do that, have you? Been killing horcruxes in your free time?"

"No," Hermione snorted, "no, of course not, but we've over two months left between now and then. I'm sure we can figure out something."

He stared at her incredulously now, as if she had just suggested flying to the moon on a thestral. "Well, it's a comfort to know your plan has been given such a great deal of thought," he sneered.

"Oh come on, Severus, it's been the plan from the start, hasn't it? All it takes is… accelerating it a bit."

"And if we miss the deadline?"

Hermione sighed. Halloween.

"I'll give more credence to my other options then," she said softly.

Severus inhaled and peered at her speculatively, his eyes dark and glittering.

"Very well," he agreed. "Then we had better get to work."

 _Work_ , thought Hermione, _such a mundane word for doing the impossible._


	33. Dynasty

**Author's Note:** So I started a new story. It's called "When Strangers Dance" and is a Sirius/Hermione centric tale, if you are interested. The link in in my profile, so feel free to check it out if you're at all interested. It is comedy, which it turns out I needed in the middle of working on _The Heir_. Thank you to everyone who has continued to read and to review. I adore you all and hope you enjoy this chapter. One thousand thanks to oblivian . baby, who betaed this chapter like a boss.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Three: Dynasty**

 **September 1, 1997**

The first thing Hermione did after finishing her first day as Horace Slughorn's apprentice, was go to the hospital wing and take another contraceptive potion. She would not, _could not_ , submit herself to the same ritual which had brought about her own existence. Even now, months after she had witnessed the scene which had catapulted her into this mess, she could see the wide, terrified eyes of her mother, hear her shrieks echoing in the circle of watchful men, all hooded in black and willing to stand by as their lord and master desecrated a pureblood girl whose life they all professed to value above those of common Mudbloods and Muggles. No, that would not be her fate if she could help it, and Hermione had faith that she and Severus together would be able to help it. If Halloween drew near and they were no closer to defeating the Dark Lord… well, they could discuss their options again then, but for Hermione's part, she felt quite certain that she would not be capable of giving up her magic and abandoning the Wizarding world to it's fate.

After her stomach settled and Madame Pomfrey—who had greeted her coldly upon her arrival—gave her leave to go, Hermione made her way off of the narrow cot she had occupied and down from the third floor towards the Great Hall, where she knew the students would soon be assembling. It was odd, she thought, approaching the welcoming feast not as a student, but as the wife of an assuredly hated Headmaster and an apprentice in her own right. She would not be seated beneath the red and gold banners of her house tonight, but at the head table, on display for every former classmate to gawk at and to judge. _Well_ , she thought bitterly, _not every classmate_. The Muggleborns had all been weeded out before the school year began, their wands snapped before they were either sent to Azkaban, or home to their Muggle parents, Obliviated completely. The student body had effectively been cut by a quarter, and as Hermione entered the Great Hall, she realized almost immediately how large an effect that had.

The students, it seemed, had already arrived. Hermione froze in the entrance, staring out over the house tables, all much more sparsely filled by the second to seventh years than she was used to. Slytherin, which housed the largest number of pure and halfbloods, was the least affected, but the other tables showed the changes in admission for the year starkly. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff both had been affected by the loss of students, but it was Gryffindor which seemed to have suffered the greatest loss. Hermione's heart clenched as she noted how many students she had befriended and mentored were missing. The empty patches at the table were a stark reminder of exactly what she and Severus were fighting against, and it was a reminder she needed as she entered the hall and began the trek up to the high table.

"That's Hermione Granger!"

"—Snape now."

"What a slag!"

"Do you think they were carrying on last year?"

"Explains her marks, don't it?"

She tried not to listen as she passed by the tables and the students gossiped. She tried not to hear the venomous words or see the hate filled stares coming from her own house.

"Tramp."

"Effing traitor."

"Liar. Can't believe I shared a room with her all those years."

"Can't believe she'd marry that git."

Miserably, she continued, reaching the table where her former professors and husband all sat, her expression stony as she found her seat beside Severus, a spot afforded to her as his wife.

Under the table, she felt a hand on her knee and jumped, but Severus only gave it a squeeze and then broke contact, nodding at Professor McGonagall, who stood and made her way into the room where, Hermione guessed, the first years were waiting.

"You weren't waiting on me, were you?" she asked softly, barely looking in Severus' direction as she spoke. He only nodded once and watched as the door to the atrium opened, and new first years were funneled into the room in a single file line. They followed the transfiguration professor to the front of the hall, just in front of the head table, where Hermione noticed now the Sorting Hat was waiting on it's little stool. She held her breath, waiting for it to sing as it had every year since she had begun school.

 _Welcome here to Hogwarts_

 _Where you all come to learn,_

 _Where you all must do your parts_

 _In finding what you yearn._

 _In Gryffindor you'll always want_

 _To seek out brave adventure,_

 _And when you meet adversity_

 _You'll then ignore all censure._

 _In Hufflepuff you'll be well known_

 _By friends for being true,_

 _But when you meet an enemy_

 _It's a meeting they will rue._

 _In Ravenclaw your minds are keen_

 _And your speech is witty,_

 _Though for those less fortunate_

 _You will not be moved to pity._

 _In Slytherin you crave the best_

 _You work for opportunity,_

 _And when a foe prevents you_

 _You strike him with impunity._

 _And yet you must remember_

 _That you each one are fickle._

 _So be careful what you wish for_

 _Or you'll end up in a pickle._

 _Though you value bravery_

 _You'll do well to remember,_

 _That honest censure does not mean_

 _You've lost your chance forever._

 _And though your enemies stand there_

 _Against the friends you love,_

 _You should not forget they too_

 _Have friends they won't dispose of._

 _And if you like deep learning_

 _But forget you're meant to share it,_

 _Don't be surprised when those you judge_

 _Fail to see your merit._

 _And when you seek the future_

 _One you crave to own,_

 _Be cautious with your actions_

 _Lest you end up there alone._

 _The fly is in the ointment._

 _The egg is in the fire._

 _Don't forget your talents,_

 _When the ox is in the mire._

 _But don't forget your faults,_

 _Though to you they may seem small._

 _Believe me when I tell you_

 _I could scarcely count them all._

 _You are none perfect in this world,_

 _And you all need each other;_

 _So when the dark storm rages_

 _See each house as your brother._

 _Don't be divided but stand tall_

 _When you are asked to give;_

 _For you must sacrifice your all_

 _If you wish to live._

 _Don't give in to temptation._

 _Look around at what you've lost._

 _The peace some seek to bring you_

 _Comes at far too high a cost._

Everyone in the hall stared as the Hat finished its song, students from each house looking uncomfortable where they sat and the teachers shifting around her as Hermione contemplated the Hat's words. Its warning was both tamer and more accusatory than it had been the year before, and as Hermione turned it over in her mind, it was a line near the end which she could not shake from her thoughts. _For you must sacrifice your all if you wish to live._ What was her all? Had she not given everything already? Her life, her future… all of it had been given to the cause. Even her past had not been safe, as it had been rewritten for all to see on the pages of the bloody Daily Prophet. What else was there for her to sacrifice?

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." Professor McGonagall's voice rang out in the hall, snapping Hermione from her thoughts and back to reality. She watched the sorting with polite disinterest, and when it was over she ate as little as she could get away with, picking at bits of chicken and vegetables until at last Severus stood beside her. The students in the hall before them fell silent as they caught sight of their new headmaster standing as still as stone at the head table, surveying them all with glittering black eyes.

"Welcome," he greeted, his tone low and silken, "to Hogwarts. I will depend upon you older students to show our new first years the castle and to enlighten them about our long standing rules." He paused for a moment, peering at the prefects in the crowd before speaking again. "There are several new rules you will follow this year, in addition to those with which you are already familiar. You will find an exhaustive list posted in your common rooms, and a duplicate on your pillows, which you will memorize."

Someone in the hall snorted, and Hermione followed the source of the sound to the Gryffindor table.

"This year," continued Severus when silence had resumed, his voice measured and even, "will not be as other years. This year, you will all focus on your studies without many of the distractions which have plagued this school in the past. To assist us in these aims, we are joined by two new professors who will be teaching Muggle Studies, and Defense Against the Dark Arts respectively. You _will_ show them every courtesy." He did not introduce Amycus and Alecto Carrow, both of whom sat together at the very end of the staff table, beyond Professor Trelawney. Instead, he stared out at the hall, watching the students shift uncomfortably beneath his gaze.

"That is all." He finished, holding up a hand and motioning to the massive double doors at the end of the hall, which sprang open at his gesture. "You are dismissed to your common rooms." Hermione watched the students as they rose and filed out of the room, all but the Slytherins glaring behind them towards where she sat with Severus, and muttering as they walked.

When at last they were left alone in the Great Hall, husband and wife sitting together after students and professors had retired, Severus closed the door and warded the room.

"I think that was a very nice speech," commented Hermione dryly. Beside her, Severus snorted. "I'm sorry I was late," she continued. "I hadn't realized they were arriving earlier than usual."

"The train left an hour earlier this year," said Severus. "The Dark Lord thought it would serve as a small show of power on my part; a sign that I would not blindly follow my predecessors."

"Well, the next time you decide to change things, please tell me," said Hermione with a small smile. Severus returned the expression and nodded once.

"How was your morning with Slughorn?" He asked her.

Hermione shrugged. "Well enough. He seemed quite disapproving, honestly. Of course he tried his best not to show it, but I could tell he did not like having me there."

"His loss," remarked Severus. "Though don't mention it do the Dark Lord, or I fear we'll be left without a Potion's Master."

Hermione made a noise of ascent and looked out over the empty tables, completely cleared of the feast which had graced them earlier.

"So many students missing this year," she said softly, tapping her fingers along the edge of the head table.

Severus nodded and leaned back in his seat.

"I think your friends will pose a problem this year," he said, changing the subject.

"Without a doubt," Hermione shrugged. "I honestly think you'll have quite a few run ins with people like Neville and Ginny."

"Longbottom?"asked Severus incredulously. "The boy can hardly look me in the eye without quivering."

"He'll be different this year. With Harry gone… he'll see it as his responsibility to fight back, I think. Ginny as well. Really, the whole D.A. will cause problems."

"If you tell me who they are I can—"

Hermione laughed. "Tell you who they are? Severus, do you remember what happened to Marietta Edgecomb when I was in fifth year?"

"Edgecomb?" He paused, as if searching his memories for a trace of the girl before his face split into a wide grin. "The disfigurement." He said.

Hermione laughed. "They were boils. I hardly maimed her."

"It took Poppy a month to remove the last vestiges of them, and she was left with scars."

"Poppy?" teased Hermione.

"Edgecomb."

"Well, she was a liar and a sneak. I can't really muster much sympathy."

"You're the one who cursed her, then?"

Hermione shrugged and then nodded. "Well, I cursed the document she signed. The one I signed as well. So you see, I can't tell you."

"Hmm," was all Severus said in response.

They sat there for several more minutes, until at last he stood and held out his hand to help Hermione from her seat and away from the table. Her shoes clicked against the floor of the Great Hall as they moved, and when they reached the double doors, they opened of their own accord, and Severus dropped the enchantments which had afforded them privacy. They reached the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office without encountering anyone. The students, it seemed, had all been ushered directly to their dormitories.

"Dumbledore," said Severus, after checking the corridor to make certain no one was there to witness it. The statue sprang to life and removed itself, exposing the spiral staircase beyond it, which he and Hermione promptly ascended. The Headmaster's office remained unchanged from when she had first seen it, the gadgets and books still covering every available surface.

"Are we going to sleep here on the desk?" Hermione asked. Severus gave her a look and approached a bookshelf near the fireplace. He reached out, touching a small blue volume. As he did so, the whole book case melted away revealing a tall archway leading into a brightly lit room beyond it. They entered, taking in the cheery fire and myriad of windows overlooking the grounds, as well as the overlarge bed draped in Gryffindor red and gold. Hermione smiled.

"I like it. It's cozy." Beside her, Severus made a face, but he did not move to change the color scheme in the room, walking through it instead until he had reached another door and opened it.

"Here's the private sitting room," he said, and then opened another door, "and here is the washroom."

"Is there no kitchen?" Severus shook his head in reply.

"Mine was an aberration. Only there because I enjoyed having access to it."

After that they didn't speak much, instead readying themselves for bed, and then retiring together when the last light of day had finally disappeared behind the mountainous hills beyond the Black Lake.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

The following evening, Hermione watched Severus duplicate the Sword of Gryffindor, a task he had been set by Dumbledore that morning. Afterwards, she inspected the copy, hefting it in her hands and feeling the weight of the thing, comparing it to the real sword which Severus then placed behind a portrait in his office.

"I can't tell the difference," she said in amazement. "It's a beautiful bit of charm work. More advanced than Geminio, and more elegant. Where did you learn it?"

Severus seemed flattered by the compliment and graced her with a small smile.

"A book," he replied. "I'm honestly surprised you haven't discovered it yet. I found it in the Library when I was doing work for a charms essay as a student. It took me quite a while to master."

Before Hermione could respond, however, tapping sounded at the window behind the Headmaster's desk. Severus stood, opening the glass and admitting a dour looking eagle owl which ruffled its feathers and dropped a crisp looking envelope on his desk. Severus motioned the owl to a stand filled with treats to which it flew eagerly before he settled at his desk to read the missive. Uninterested, Hermione sat on the edge of his desk and contemplated whether or not Severus would be easily distracted from his work by her charms. It had been several days since their last encounter, and while she was not feeling any ill effects… she would be lying to herself if she tried to say that she was not eager to renew their more intimate relationship.

"Bloody hell," his shocked voice broke Hermione from her thoughts, and she peered down at him, concerned.

"What is it?" she asked.

He did not answer her, only swore again and thrust the letter at her as he stood, striding angrily from the office and into their private chambers.

"What on earth?" mused Hermione, looking down at the letter in her hand and squinting so that she could better make out the flowing, emerald green script.

 _Severus,_

 _It is my desire that you make a study of the potion with which Wormtail revived me. I wish to know how best it might be combined with ritual magic, especially soul magic. I await your report at the end of the week._

 _LV_

Potions? Soul magic? Hermione was confused and continued to stare down at the letter she now knew contained the neat, yet ostentatious penmanship belonging to Lord Voldemort.

"Have you read it?" Severus burst back into the room like a cannon ball, carrying with him two large tomes and his wand.

"Yes," nodded Hermione, "but I'm not sure I understand what—"

"Quiet," Severus ordered, dropping the thick books heavily atop his desk and waving his wand over them wordlessly. Both books opened in unison and their pages been to flip as if a strong gust of wind were moving them, until at last they settled.

"Severus what are you—"

"Hush," he quieted her again and she huffed, crossing her arms as she watched him read through the pages quickly, using a quill on his desk to scratch out notes in the margins, which made her wince. After several minutes, he pulled away, and collapsed into his chair, covering his mouth with one hand as he stared in horror at the texts in front of him. Hermione could contain herself no longer.

"Severus," she began, tentatively. "What is it? What's happened?"

He did not answer her for several minutes and she stood, waiting as her heart pounded agitatedly and her breath grew shallow. Finally, when she was on the verge of real panic, he looked up and, meeting her eyes, spoke:

"I know what he wants with a baby," he said without preamble. Hermione's eyes widened and she exhaled as if she'd been punched in the gut before sinking into the chair opposite him.


	34. Words

A/N: I'm posting this from mobile and hope it finds you all well. I am continually amazed by the beautiful and kind things you all have to say about this story. Thank you. Have a lovely weekend!

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Four: Words**

 **September 19, 1997**

 _Slice. Add. Stir. Dice. Add. Stir. Crush. Slice. Add. Stir._

Life as an apprentice was monotonous. For some reason, despite the circumstances surrounding the Potion's apprenticeship with Professor Slughorn, Hermione had always imagined it would be more exciting than its reality. In her mind, it had been glamorous really: she'd be a star pupil, researching theory and designing new potions to make a mark on the alchemical world. Of course the actual day to day of an apprentice was much more menial, even if that apprentice was the Headmaster's wife. Hermione spent most of her days brewing mind-numbing potions like Pepper-up and Dreamless Sleep, both of which she had learned before she'd even reached Advanced Potions. Ostensibly, brewing these potions was a task that normally fell to the resident Potions Master during the Summer, which was when a large portion of the Hospital Wing's stock of potions was to be restored; but it seemed as if Slughorn had left the task until the school year once he had been informed he'd be taking on an apprentice, because it was his opinion that any Potion's Master worth their salt should be able to brew such common and necessary potions blindfolded and in their sleep… which of course Hermione already could. Still, the medical potions all needed restocking and so Hermione spent her days brewing salves and poultices and decoctions for Madame Pomfrey's use— which left a lot of time for thinking, which was the one activity she'd really rather avoid.

"Ouch!" Hermione flinched and cried out as the heavy pestle she had been directing wandlessly trod over her finger. Withdrawing her hand from the table, she brought the digit immediately to her mouth. "Bloody thing," she said around the finger, and then withdrew it for inspection. Seeing no obvious injury she scowled and waved her other hand at the pestle, which promptly stopped and fell to the table, completely koinanimate. Hermione sighed and checked her wristwatch. It was nearly time for dinner anyway, and this last potion was all but done. Working quickly, she stored the ingredients she had been working with and lowered the flame beneath the cauldron to let it simmer and then leaned back against the table at her rear, with her arms crossed to wait for the potion to finish.

As she waited, she tried to clear her mind. Normally, she was quite good at it, emptying her thoughts and leaving them blank and still, but lately… lately there had been too much to think about. She couldn't stop going over the conversation she and Severus had had nearly three weeks ago now, when it had become apparent what Lord Voldemort wanted from her… from them.

 _"I know what he wants with a baby."_

 _Hermione stared at him, her heart racing in horrified anticipation as she waited for him to let her in on his epiphany. It couldn't be good, whatever it was he had deduced. He look panicked, overwhelmed, unlike the man she had grown to know and care for who was so often in control of himself._

 _"Severus, what is it? What does he want?"_

 _He sat in the chair beside her, in front of the headmaster's desk, and took her hand._

 _"You're scaring me," she told him._

 _"I'm sorry," he said, looking as if he wanted to speak but couldn't quite manage to string the words together in his head._

 _"For God's sake, Severus, just tell me!" She finally cried._

 _"He want's a new body," he said at last, his voice more solid than she had expected._

 _"A new body." Hermione echoed him. "He's already got a body, custom grown from Harry's blood and his father's bone and whatever else garbage Wormtail put in that cauldron."_

 _"He wants a body that is whole, that is new," Severus clarified. "For all his work with the Horcruxes, he ages. The artifacts prevent death, not time. He wants a fresh body, one of Slytherin's line and pure blood."_

 _"That's impossible," Hermione said, knowing as she made the assertion that it must not be if Severus had come to this conclusion. "Severus, you can't just move your soul about to other people's bodies."_

 _"Not a whole soul, no. But The Dark Lord's soul is fragmented, unstable. If he could make another Horcrux, using a child of ours as sacrifice… he would banish its soul and simultaneously direct his own into it. That is why he needs the potion in conjunction with Horcrux magic. The potion allows transfer of the soul into a brand new body, but combining it with dark magic he could move his soul not into a fabricated body, but into that of a living, breathing being."_

 _Her stomach was roiling with the horror of it, and Hermione searched frantically for any reason Severus' theory could not be true._

 _"He could hardly want to be transferred into a baby! Or to wait decades for it to grow!"_

 _"An aging potion is all that would be required," Severus told her quietly._

 _Hermione sprang from her chair. "Oh my God," she said, tears filling her eyes as she felt the horror of the revelation sink in and she stumbled backwards._

The acrid smell of a potion burning pulled Hermione out of her memory and she swore, using her wand to banish the mess inside the cauldron and put out the flame beneath it. She'd brew an extra batch of Calming Drought the next day, now, she had dinner in the Great Hall to attend, and she would be damned before she would let the students who had been insulting her at every opportunity think that they had driven her into hiding. Besides, today was a day to celebrate. Not only was it her birthday, but that morning Severus had received word from Dumbledore that he and Harry and Ron had managed to break into Gringotts, destroying the cup and escaping without anyone being the wiser. The news had been well received, with Hermione letting out a triumphant whoop and Severus deigning to crack a smile. It meant there were only two Horcruxes left to be destroyed, one unknown artifact, and the snake, Nagini. After that, they would be free to kill Voldemort and live their lives, free of his rule. Of course, first they had to discover and destroy this mysterious, unnamed Horcrux. Severus had taken Professor Dumbledore the Sword of Gryffindor several evenings before, ostensibly to aid them in the search for the final hidden bit of Voldemort's soul, but Hermione wondered secretly whether it was to help destroy the thing once it had been found. If Dumbledore had continued to deteriorate since she had last seen him at Grimmauld Place, he would not be able to wield Fiendfyre without losing control any longer.

Sighing, Hermione grabbed her bag from the table behind her, slinging it over her shoulder and pushing all thoughts of Horcruxes and murdered babies from her mind. It was her birthday, and she would make at least a modicum of an effort to enjoy it.

O-O-O-O-O-O

Dinner was uneventful. She sat beside Severus while the students scowled up at them occasionally. Sometimes, the teachers would join in the obvious resentment, a development Hermione was not surprised by, as the Carrows had begun disciplining students in heinous ways. Even those professors who were Order members were wary of the Snapes, though whether it was because they actually distrusted the couple, or for appearances sake, Hermione did not know.

Once the hour had passed, Severus and Hermione had risen and exited the hall, walking together to their rooms on the seventh floor.

"Some birthday dinner," said Hermione dryly once they were safely ensconced in their suite.

"Oh, is it your birthday?" Severus asked, looking curious. Hermione made a face and stuck her tongue out at him.

"You are perfectly aware it is," she chided. "I've told you at least three times this past week."

"Yes," Severus drawled, "I think you might be the least subtle wife in all of creation."

"Subtlety is overrated within a marriage," Hermione shrugged.

"How very Gryffindor a thing to say."

"I'll have you know that particular sentiment came straight from my Ravenclaw mother."

And that was the truth. Hermione remembered her mother's constant reminders throughout the year to her father, never nagging, simply reminders when important events or gift giving occasions were approaching. When Hermione had asked her once why she reminded her father so frequently when her birthday or their anniversary was approaching, her mother had said simply, "You must never expect your memories to exist in another's mind, Hermione. If something is important to you, you must ask for it."

"How touching," said Severus. "And I suppose you are expecting some sort of bauble for the occasion?"

"If not a gift, then a spectacular love-making session at the very least." Severus laughed.

"Would you settle for a back rub and a mediocre encounter instead? I'm positively knackered."

"No, I don't think so. You'll have to put a bit more effort into it than that. It is my birthday, after all."

"Is it?"

"Oh, you're a cad."

Severus chuckled and crossed to his bedside table, pulling out the drawer and withdrawing a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. "Here you are, you harridan," he said, tossing the little square to her. She caught it deftly and graced him with a wide smile.

"You are the very best husband," she said.

"You haven't even opened it. For all you know, it's a lump of coal."

"That's a Christmas tradition, Sev."

"Yes, well, its dastardly enough for me to pull out on any special occasion."

Hermione laughed and untied the package, unfolding the paper surrounding her gift to reveal a simple wooden box with a hinge on the back and the words "Gamling's Finest" etched into the top.

"Severus, what did you—" she did not finish her question, because as she flipped open the lid of the box and caught sight of its contents, her breath caught and her mouth formed a perfect, unmoving 'o'.

"I hope that is a pleased expression," said Severus, who was watching her intently.

"Oh, Severus," she said, reaching into the little box and withdrawing a ring. It was gorgeous. Of course it was gorgeous. Severus had fine taste and this would be no different. As its centerpiece, the ring held a perfect sapphire, round cut and surrounded by tiny sparkling diamonds which formed a halo around it. The band itself was platinum and engraved with intricate flowing vines. It was breathtaking, and as she stared at it in awe; Hermione could not bring herself to speak. At last, Severus approached her, placing a hand on her chin and tilting her face up so that he could peer into her eyes. Only then did she realize that they were filled with tears.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know why I'm crying. It's lovely. I adore it."

"I am glad," he said, still studying her face as he spoke. Wordlessly, he took the sapphire ring from her and placed it on the fourth finger of her left hand.

"I realize I was not your choice," he said, once the ring was nestled on her finger. She tried to interrupt, to tell him that if he hadn't been her choice in the beginning, he was certainly her choice now, but he silenced her with a finger against her lips.

"We were given little choice in the matter of our marriage, and I cannot help but resent that. I am not an agreeable man, who can content himself with following the orders of others without feeling as if he has been wronged… but in this case, where we are concerned… Hermione, I cannot pretend that I regret our union, archaic and forced as it was. I find that every day I spend in your company is another that I thank whatever deity watches mere mortals play out their lives, that I was bound to you. I love you. And I am sorry, so very sorry that I am the man to whom you were bound, lacking both in charm and in the means you deserve… but I cannot regret it, even for your sake. I love you, and I would not change our circumstances, dire as they are, if it meant losing you. I am sorry for that as well. You are more important to me by far than the plans of men like Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, and I would damn them both to hell if it meant we could live in peace together. I am sorry if this news is unwelcome, but I—"

"Severus," Hermione interrupted, placing a hand on his mouth and taking in his startled expression and wide eyes. "Shut up." His eyebrows flew up at her words and then began to furrow in anger and she laughed, a rich sound she could not contain as her joy overflowed and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him eagerly. He stood there, frozen for several seconds until at last his arms wound around her waist and he returned her kiss with vigor.

"You are the most damnably confusing woman I have ever encountered," he grumbled when they parted for air, and Hermione laughed again.

"Oh, I love you, you ridiculous man!" She cried, and then watched his face split into a wide grin that she knew she would remember and treasure forever.

Their next kiss made her forget everything else though, as he took her mouth fiercely, his mouth slanted over hers as his hands pressed her close, seeking to fit the curves of her body against the planes of his. He loved her, and she could feel that he was seeking to show her in the way he held her, in the way his lips trailed softly from her lips to her jaw and down to her throat where he peppered her with tiny kisses, inhaling the scent of her hair as his hands caressed her from shoulder to arse and danced along her spine, making her shiver in delicious anticipation of what he would do to her now that he had told her how he cared for her.

"Hermione," he breathed her name reverently as his mouth met her collarbone and his hands pressed her hips into his, letting her feel how very much he desired her in that moment.

"Severus, please. I need you." She did not have to ask him again. He lifted her up, his hands on the bottoms of her thighs as he carried her a few short steps to their bed, where he allowed them both to topple onto its soft surface. He kissed her again there, his hips cradled between her thighs as he made love to her with his mouth, worshipping her with every sweep of his tongue. When he broke away it was to leave kisses in a scorching path to her neck, then her collarbone as he divested her of her robes and every stitch of clothing beneath them before vanishing his own wordlessly and moving to kiss her breasts. He paid ample attention to them as she moaned beneath him, whispering his name as he laved her nipples, pressing them between his tongue and teeth to give her a small jolt when she seemed complacent, and lapping at them tenderly when she became frantic. He teased her, his fingers dancing up and down her side, making her shiver as he finally broke away from her bosom and began to kiss a trail down her belly, licking her belly button on the way down and sucking on the tender flesh just above her hips.

"Merlin," she breathed, her hands twining themselves in his hair and pushing him lower. He chuckled against her thigh, the sound reverberating deliciously as his five o'clock shadow scrapped her tender flesh.

"Greedy," he accused playfully, and then moved his hands to spread her labia, baring her to his voracious view.

"Please, oh please, Sev!" She cried, as his breath hit her sensitive inner folds. He answered her plea, pressing his tongue to the apex of her pleasure and beginning to lick enthusiastically. She cried out and her fingers clenched in his hair as her back arched and she began to moan.

"Is this the sort of love-making you were imagining, Mrs. Snape?" asked Severus, breaking away from her after a minute to glance up at her, his mouth glistening.

"Yes, God yes," she moaned just as Severus slipped two of his fingers between her folds, sliding them deep inside of her and finding a spot that made her sob. Soon, his fingers worked in tandem with his tongue as he stroked her clit with his mouth and filled her with his clever fingers. Before long, she was coming apart at the sensations, her own hands coming up to cup her breasts as if the action would somehow keep her from flying apart.

As she came down from the incredible height, Severus moved up her body, kissing her deeply. She tasted her own arousal on his lips and on his tongue and found she did not mind so very much, because as he kissed her his cock slipped into the passage formerly occupied by his fingers, spreading her open and making her cry out as he began to rock against her, his pubic bone putting pressure on her still sensitive clit and pushing her over the edge of pleasure again into a spiraling climax that had her wailing into his shoulder and pulsing around his length. He groaned in response but continued as her eyes fluttered open and shut beneath him and her arms wound around his neck, seeking some anchor as the blinding pleasure was stoked again and again, sending her over the edge for a third time as he shuddered and stilled above her, spilling himself deep against her cervix with a whispered "Need you. So much."

Collapsing against her, Severus lowered his cheek to her breast, shifting the majority of his weight to the bed and peppering her creamy flesh with soft kisses.

"I love you," he said, voice barely more than a whisper as his hand found hers, twining their fingers together and holding on for dear life.

"Love you too," answered Hermione, voice hoarse and her eyes fluttered closed and she drifted to sleep.


	35. The Grey Lady

**A/N:** Friends, I am so sorry it's taken me this long to get an update to you. Life has become fast paced of late. I've been starting a business doing something I am passionate about, and reading actual books (not fan fiction!) that I've been neglecting. Add to that the fact that my baby has decided he's much to old for naps at eleven months, and I haven't got a lot of free time to write in. All of these things are, of course, excuses and useless to you, but I thought I would put them out there anyway, along with a plea to be patient with me. I am _not_ abandoning this story. My updates may be less frequent now, but they will come. I am only ten chapters from the end now, and cannot imagine stopping before I get there. Thank you all so much for reading this story, for your reviews and for your follows. Seeing them continue to roll in despite my absence has been incredibly inspiring. I adore you all, and am so grateful that I am able to share this story with you.

Beta Love goes to Oblivion . baby, who is really an absolute dream.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Five: The Grey Lady**

 **October 4, 1997**

It was early morning in the Headmaster's residence, and the first light of the day filtered into the room, flooding it with swirling dust motes that sparkled on the air. From the bed, Hermione watched as Severus busied himself in readying for the day. She liked to observe him in these quiet moments, before he realized she had woken. He seemed more free for the solitude, less concerned with the world or with making sure she was okay. As Halloween and the ritual grew closer, he seemed more determined than ever to understand her state of mind and to assure her that he would support her in whatever solution she chose. It was as if his own anxiety manifested in a preoccupation with his young wife's comfort. Under normal circumstances, she might not have minded, but as the date Lord Voldemort had chosen for the hateful fertility rite grew closer, and their own efforts to over-throw him stalled… she found all she wanted was to ignore the waxing horror and pretend that her life was at least somewhat normal. In the mornings when the young Headmaster donned his robes and combed his hair, she found it easy to imagine that they were not in the power of a mad man.

"I did not mean to wake you." His voice startled her, and Hermione met his gaze. He laughed at the surprised look on her face at having been caught watching him. "I have an early morning staff meeting today," he continued, "so I'll likely be late to breakfast. There's no need to wait for me."

"More trouble with the Gryffindors?"

"You ask as if you were not one of their number several short months ago."

"Yes, well I like to think I was a little more subtle in my rebellions. A little more thoughtful."

Severus laughed and leaned in to kiss her lips as she sat up in the bed, the coverlet falling down around her lap and exposing her nightgown to the crisp air. Her nipples pebbled beneath the light fabric, and she wondered where her heavy pajamas had gotten off to.

"There was nothing subtle about stealing from my stores, or setting fire to my robes, Miss Granger." Her maiden name was a mocking sobriquet on his tongue. "If I'd been able to prove either, I'd have had you in detention till your nest of hair turned grey."

Hermione blushed but shrugged, a small smile on her lips. "Been thinking of me in detention recently have you?"

Severus made a look of distaste and shook his head. "I'm afraid fantasies of that ilk will never be part of my repertoire."

"More's the pity." Her voice was dry as she spoke. "According to Lavender and Parvati, it's quite a popular game among the more sexually exploratory Ravenclaw boys."

"Do I look like a Ravenclaw?"

Hermione took a long moment to study him and shook her head. "No. Though, I must say there is something distinctly boyish about the way you let your hair loose like that."

Severus sniffed at her teasing and headed for the door. "You're not as amusing as you think you are, Madam Snape."

"Well, I've got plenty of time to practice before I'm old and grey."

They exchanged a solemn look then at her mention of the future before Hermione shrugged and forced a smile. "Off with you. You'll give Professor McGonagall apoplexy if you're— what on earth is that noise?"

Severus crossed the room quickly, slowing as he reached the window and then throwing it open to admit a bedraggled looking barn owl.

"Sev, its dripping all over the carpet!" Hermione pulled the coverlet up to her chin and stared at the bird in distaste as it flapped madly around the room, the mud and rain once caking its feathers now splattering onto the floor and furniture.

" _Immobulus!_ " The owl froze mid air as Severus' spell struck it. "Infernal thing," he muttered, turning his wand on the room and muttering a cleaning spell beneath his breath. At once, the filth disappeared and the droplets of brown water evaporated. Once the room was orderly once more, he crossed to the unlucky bird, poking it with his wand and watching dispassionately as it too was cleaned, the spell leaving its feathers smoking in its wake.

"Now," Severus spoke at last, "what is your errand, you distasteful wind rat?"

"I don't think insulting it will really endear it to you," Hermione said dryly as she stepped out of the bed. She watched as Severus plucked a scroll from the owl's beak and released the enchantment holding it still. It flapped its wings and gave a disgruntled hoot before perching on the feeding station strategically positioned beside the window for owls carrying personal correspondence to the Headmaster.

"It's for you." Hermione was taken aback by the pronouncement but stepped forward to take the missive anyway, brow furrowed. If Voldemort was sending her a letter, nothing he had to say could be—

"It's from Harry!"

"Yes, let's shout his name out open windows," scolded Severus, closing the window at hand with a flick of his wand. "I'm sure there aren't any Dark Lord sympathizers in the castle."

Hermione ignored him, instead staring at the letter in her hands with trepidation.

"Well, aren't you going to read it?"

Hermione looked up at Severus, who stood impatiently with a studied look of indifference on his face that she knew meant he was anxious about something.

"What if it's bad news?" she asked, fully expecting him to call her ridiculous and tell her to read the blasted thing. Instead, he surprised her by leaning forward and placing a warm, long fingered hand on her shoulder.

"Would you like me to read it for you?" he asked, and she realized as he did so that yes, she absolutely did want him to read it first. She could watch his face and be prepared if Harry was about to end their friendship.

"Please," she nodded. Severus took the half unwound scroll, opened it completely and proceeded to scan it. As he read, Hermione's anxiety built, and whether it was because she was so bloody nervous, or because he was being particularly inscrutable, she couldn't tell from his expression whether the letter held good news or bad.

"Well?" she probed at last as he let his gaze wander from the parchment and furrowed his brow. Instead of answering, he held the missive out for her to take. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Fat lot of good you reading it was," she snapped crossly, and then snatched the letter from him. As she unfurled it, she took in Harry's familiar scrawl and held her breath.

 _Hermione,_

 _I hope everything Dumbledore says about you and Snape is true, that you can be trusted, and that you're with him not out of choice, but necessity. I hope you are on our side, and that Snape is as well… but I can't know. I thought I knew you. I thought we were best friends. But you lied to me, Hermione. You kept this huge secret, and now I can't tell whether you're the person I thought I knew, or the woman I've seen plastered on the front of the Prophet. Are you Hermione Granger, Muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter, or are you Hermione Snape, half-blood bride of Voldemort's right hand man? I can't know, and it scares me. But Hermione, I hope you're still you. I hope you're the girl I've known since we were kids… because if you are, you can help us._

 _Dumbledore tells me Snape already knows we're hunting Horcruxes, so if he's really Voldemort's man, then Old Voldy already knows what I'm about to tell you, and putting it in writing won't make much of a difference. I don't think he knows though; what I see in his head makes me believe he doesn't… well, I've been wrong before, but if I'm not, and if you can be trusted, we need your help._

 _There's only two left now. The snake, and the mystery object. We think it's something called a diadem; a tiara that used to belong to Rowena Ravenclaw. If you're with us, Hermione, we need you to talk to the Grey Lady. We can't come to the castle yet, or I'd do it myself. Apparently she's Ravenclaw's daughter, and if anyone might know what happened to the diadem, it'll be her._

 _Right. I think that's everything. I miss you, you know. If you're still really you. Dumbledore knows a lot, but he's so bloody mysterious. I could kick him half the time… Ron misses you too, but in a different way, I think. I still can't believe you're properly married to Snape. Please write back soon._

 _Harry_

"Well it's not as bad as I expected," Hermione breathed.

"No, I thought there would be a few more errors, but as it turns out, Potter _can_ string more than a few words together without your help."

"Of course it's a little insulting that he doubts me, but given the situation…" Hermione continued as if she had not heard Severus' jab against her friend. "Well, Harry's never been given to clear headedness, and honestly, I'm surprised he took the time to write out all his feelings like that. I swear, getting the boy to talk about his feelings is like clipping dragon scales."

"Are you planning to turn the entirety of your inner monologue into a soliloquy?" Hermione looked up at Severus' icy tone, eyes wide, as if she had only just realized he was still present.

"Sorry."

"Hmmmph."

"Don't be like that."

"I can't imagine what you mean."

Severus was looking uncomfortable now, and Hermione strode to stand beside him, taking his hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. She thought she might know what had upset him, and she knew how to make it right.

"Dumbledore's wrong." She spoke softly, but clearly and watched the stiff expression on Severus' face melt into one of impassivity.

"About the diadem?" he asked, voice neutral.

"About why I'm with you." Hermione swallowed and continued watching his face for the minutest change in expression. She thought she could sense a vulnerability growing behind the stoic mask. "Our marriage may have begun as a necessity, Severus, but I'm here with you now because you're dear to me. Being at your side is my choice, and I would be even if the Dark Lord tripped and impaled himself on the Sword of Gryffindor tomorrow." She watched him as his brow relaxed, and his gaze softened, until at last she was staring up into the face of the man who had professed his love for her a few short weeks ago.

"I know," he assured her. "If it weren't written so plainly on your face, the absence of the compulsion to renew the bond would have told me." He squeezed her hand back and then released it, looking behind him at the door that lead to his office. "I have to leave now. The staff is waiting. We can discuss the Diadem this evening after dinner." He leaned in once more and pecked her on the lips before giving her a warm smile and disappearing through the doorway, leaving her standing in the middle of the room as the still disgruntled owl began to hoot loudly from near the casement.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Well, she was cheery." Hermione arched a brow as they watched Helena Ravenclaw disappear through a wall, and Severus stifled a chuckle at her tone of voice.

"Informative though. The Room of Requirement?"

Hermione nodded, glancing down the seventh floor corridor she new led to the Room of Hidden Things, and letting the excitement flood her at last as the information the ghost had given them began to sink in. It had taken some coaxing to get the spirit to speak to them—she had been wary of Hermione, and of her connection to the strange boy, Tom Riddle. The similarities the ghost had noted had quite unsettled the brunette, but in the end her complete disgust with Voldemort had become apparent, and Helena had entrusted them with the secret of the Diadem's location after first extracting a promise that they would do everything in their power to destroy it.

"We ought to retrieve it." Hermione's voice was low but urgent as she spoke now, the humor they had felt at Helena's ghostly reticence disappearing now in wake of the knowledge that one of Lord Voldemort's horcruxes resided within the castle.

"It will keep," responded Severus.

"But if a student stumbles upon it—"

"The bloody thing has been hidden safely in the castle for the last fifty years. I doubt any unsuspecting students will stumble upon it in the time it takes us to contact Dumbledore and get that great bloody sword back to the— Weasley!"

Hermione jumped as Severus' voice morphed in an instant from an earnest whisper to a booming exclamation.

"Snape!" Ginny Weasley stumbled to a stop as she rounded the corner, apparently surprised to have been discovered so promptly by the Headmaster. As it was nearly two hours past curfew, Hermione thought the redhead probably was as astonished as she appeared.

"Professor Snape." Hermione corrected the girl automatically, and Ginny scowled.

"I know what he is," she snapped in response.

"Do enlighten us, Miss. Weasley." Severus' voice had dropped from a shout to the silky, even tone he used during lectures. Hermione, who had developed a new appreciation for the smoothness of his voice, felt a shiver travel up her spine. "What. Am. I?"

Ginny seemed to struggle within herself for a moment with how to respond. Hermione imagined she was weighing the risk of receiving detention with the Carrows against the satisfaction of calling the bat of the dungeon foul names to his face. In the end, sense won out, though Hermione thought perhaps it had been a close thing.

"You're the Headmaster," she said through gritted teeth.

"Indeed," Severus sneered, "and you are a sixth year who really ought to know better than to wander the halls at this time of night. Thirty points from Gryffindor for your complete disregard of school rules, and detention with Hagrid tomorrow evening. Perhaps a trip into the Forbidden Forest will remind you that your dormitory is the most comfortable place for you to be late at night."

Hermione chuckled at Severus' punishment, knowing that Hagrid would likely feed Ginny rock cakes and horribly strong tea rather than take her into the forest. It wasn't until she saw the vicious expression flash across the other girl's face that she remembered who she was to her former friend these days.

"What the bloody hell are you laughing at?" Ginny's words came quick and vicious across the empty space between them, and Hermione stiffened, tension flooding her back as she grew perfectly still. Beside her, Severus seemed to match her body language, rooting himself like a tall tree and waiting for her to make a move. He was leaving room for her to play the part she had learned so well at Keep Avery the previous Summer. Perhaps, he knew it would be easier for her to respond as she must to the girl she had once been close to, if she could wrap herself in the cloak of the Dark Lord's daughter.

"I'm not sure I like your tone." What Ginny's voice had carried in hostility, Hermione's matched with carefully studied aloofness. Anyone attending one of Voldemort's gala's would have recognized the complete lack of inflection for what it was: a warning. Unfortunately for Ginny, she had little experience in high society.

"Funny, I'm positive I don't like yours. Or maybe it's just you I don't like. Never been fond of traitors, me."

"Traitors," echoed Hermione. "Well, you'd know all about those. You come from a family crawling in them. It's a pity your attitude doesn't match the potential carried in your blood."

"Please," hissed Ginny, "as if you aren't a Muggleborn yourself. I don't care what the papers reported when you became this Death Eater's whore. I've met your parents and they're Muggles, Hermione! How could you betray them by joining _him_?"

Hermione fixed the girl with a piercing stare and cocked her head to the side before smiling coldly.

"I don't think you've ever had the pleasure of meeting my father. I must say, I'm excited to introduce you when the time comes. I have a feeling you'll be positively... enraptured."

"What are you on about?" Ginny seemed at once enraged and confused by Hermione's declarations, but before she could press further Severus spoke.

"Miss Weasley, you are on incredibly dangerous ground at the moment. Given your lack of real intellect, I am sure you are oblivious to the thin ice surrounding you, so allow me to open your eyes. If you say another word to, or concerning my wife, you will find yourself in the dungeons and subject to the tender ministrations of my talented disciplinarians. There, you will be educated on etiquette where the Headmaster's wife is concerned, and reminded constantly for the entirety of a weekend of your duty to show her respect. Do you understand?"

Ginny glared at Hermione as Severus spoke, every word seeming to cause her cheeks to redden further, until at last she looked nearly apoplectic and ready to rage at the couple in front of her. She seemed to war with herself for nearly a full minute as Hermione watched dispassionately, sending a silent prayer heavenward that the redhead would see reason and let the matter drop. At last, she did. Ginny seemed to gain control of her breathing and nodded once stiffly.

"Good," said Severus shortly in response. "You are dismissed. Go back to your rooms at once."

Ginny fled, her hair whipping around as she left them with empty space and muttered words the sounded suspiciously like a lament that Hermione had been only petrified by the Basilisk during her second year.

The Snape's chose to ignore the ill wish, pretending as Ginny disappeared back towards Gryffindor's common room that they were somewhat hard of hearing. They listened closely though, both sighing in relief when they heard the Fat Lady ask for the password and Ginny give it before receding back into the safety of her tower.

"What a stubborn fool," Hermione breathed, scowling after the girl.

"My dear, you've just succeeded at describing every Gryffindor I have ever had the displeasure of acquainting myself with. Present company not excluded."

"I can't believe she wished me dead. She's the one who released that bloody snake, you'd think she'd show a little more remorse than—oh fucking Merlin!"

"I beg your pardon—" Severus looked at her askance.

"Severus, we don't need the sword. Bloody buggering shit. I know how we can destroy the Diadem!"


	36. The Chamber

**Chapter Thirty-Six: The Chamber**

 **October 4, 1997**

The girls' bathroom on the second floor was abandoned this late at night, and completely silent as a result. Moaning Myrtle, who usually haunted the broken down toilet she'd died in front of, was nowhere to be seen. Hermione thought it likely that the mournful spirit was somewhere in the Black Lake, another of her favorite haunts. As the moon filtered through the high windows along the far wall, it suffused the room with a soft, ethereal glow. Despite the stark contrast in situations, Hermione found herself smiling as she remembered the time she had spent there, years ago as a thirteen year old girl, brewing potions that should have been well beyond her, and spending time with her two best friends. She wished for a moment that her current task were as innocent as brewing Polyjuice to infiltrate the Slytherin common room; turning herself into some horrific, anthropomorphic cat might be slightly less embarrassing if she were able to avoid entering The Chamber of Secrets in the process.

"Shall we continue lingering in the doorway, or were you planning to move very soon?" Severus' voice brought Hermione back to reality, and she glanced at him long enough to ensure he got the message that she didn't find him amusing. He only gave her a dashing grin in response and stepped past her into the empty bathroom. He seemed to inspect the place for several seconds, his gaze roving from the intricately designed washstands to the plush sofa shoved against a richly decorated wall. It seemed someone had made improvements to the place since she'd brewed there in secret years ago. "You know, you girls are really the most spoiled creatures. Is seating really necessary? Does shitting tire you all out so very much that you must rest immediately following?"

"Oh, shut it," Hermione dismissed fondly, following him into the bathroom and crossing to begin inspecting the sinks. "Help me look at these. Let me know if you find the one with a snake on it."

Severus raised a brow at her tone but complied nonetheless, approaching the sink opposite her and peering down at the spigot. Hermione watched him from beneath her lashes, noting, as she did so, the intensity of his gaze. She had wondered aloud on their walk to the second floor whether Severus might have access to the Chamber as Headmaster of the school, a notion he had immediately disabused her of, confiding in her as they had walked that Dumbledore himself had tried to open the place after Harry and Ginny had emerged, but that it had remained stubbornly closed. Salazar Slytherin, it seemed, had been quite thorough when he had enchanted the place. Only a witch, or wizard gifted with the ability to speak with snakes would be able to access the chamber, and while Hermione had not hitherto displayed such a talent, she was technically a descendent of the Hogwarts Founder; if anyone had a chance of opening the secret entrance, it would be her. Hermione moved on to the next sink, leaning down to inspect the tap before a thought occurred to her.

"This is a bit of an odd spot to build a secret clubhouse isn't it? Girls' lavatory. You don't think Slytherin was a pervert, do you?"

Severus looked up immediately, a perfect expression of shock on his face before his brows knitted themselves together, and he trained his most famous glare on her.

"Salazar Slytherin was _not_ a pervert," he hissed.

It was Hermione's turn to give him a skeptical look as she spoke. "Really? Because from what you told me about him when you were studying his journals, it seemed as if he was quite keen to force himself on poor Hildred using the bond."

Severus grit his teeth, seeming to recognize that Hermione was goading him, but unable to resist responding. "If you recall, his wife was more than eager to satisfy her husband's desires, a state of affairs which would hardly lend itself to loitering about watching children relieve themselves." He sniffed, as if offended on behalf of his House's founder. "Besides, it's highly unlikely the Chamber's entrance was originally located in a girl's bathroom. It's far more likely the entrance, as we know it today, was built by some of _your_ ancestors, after the advent of modern plumbing."

"Some of my—" She paused abruptly, his words sinking in after several seconds. "Wait, you think the Chamber was opened before The Dark Lord got to it?"

"It makes sense," he shrugged, leaning down once more to inspect another of the sinks. "Salazar Slytherin could hardly have built the entrance into pipes that didn't exist, and I find it far more likely that the rumors of the Chamber and it's monster, which have persisted throughout the centuries, were based on more recent experience than a millennia old possibility."

"So what?" asked Hermione, frowning, " _Hogwarts, A History_ just forgot to mention Muggleborns being killed off by a great big snake every generation?"

Severus scoffed. "No. Contrary to popular belief, Slytherins are not all murderers. It is my understanding that the basilisk was meant largely to protect the school. If you recall your history, you'll note that in the 10th century, Muggles were not overly accepting of our kind. Was it so very wrong of Slytherin to prefer isolationism to the risk of extermination?"

"What risk?" asked Hermione crossly. "What Muggle weapon of the day could hope to compare to wands and magic? You don't honestly believe that—"

"Of course not," Severus answered, pacifying her, "but we cannot discount the very real motivations which influenced him. Had the man been a murderer, I think it far more likely he would have just decimated the Muggleborn population before leaving the school, rather than building a secure chamber with a guard dog only accessible to him and to his progeny."

"Humph," sounded Hermione. "I still don't see what this has to do with plumbing."

Severus sighed and moved onto another sink as Hermione did the same. "I was merely pointing out, that keeping the Chamber secure and the monster pacified until it was needed was likely the charge of Slytherin's descendants throughout the centuries, a practice perhaps only recently abandoned, when your father, knowing nothing of our rich history, discovered it."

"I see." Hermione's spine was stiff as she turned her attention back to the task at hand. "Well, considering the last time I saw the thing it petrified me, I'm not sure I'd have been much use at that."

"The creature didn't respond to your blood, Hermione, but to parseltongue. You would have to have spoken to it for it to obey you, and I'm fairly certain you didn't ask it politely to look the other way when you came upon it."

"No, I suppose you're—Severus, does this look like a snake to you, or is it more of an 'S' shape?"

At her question, Severus crossed to stand behind her, leaning down and letting his his chest brush across her back as he peered over her shoulder. Hermione felt her heart rate quicken as his warmth bled through the robes separating them, and she realized how chilly the room was this late at night.

"I'd say so," he nodded, his voice husky in her ear for a moment before he stood up and took a step back. Hermione straightened with him, and feeling bereft, took his hand in hers.

"Okay," she said, staring at the unassuming looking sink in front of them. "How do we get in?"

0-0-0-0-0-0

Two hours later, Hermione sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, her eyes half open and unfocused as she stared in the direction of the Chamber's entrance. She knew she had the answer, somewhere. How many times had she heard Ron tell the story of how he and Harry had gained access to the basilisk's lair? A thousand at least. And each time he had imitated the sounds Harry had made, the language he had spoken to open up the entrance and allow them admittance. All she had to do was remember, to focus, and to empty her mind of all the unimportant and cumbersome thoughts clouding her memory and preventing her from performing the task she was here to carry out. She took note of each one as it flitted across the silver screen of her mind, catching it mid flight and tucking it safely away beneath a clear black lake, completely still and without boundaries. At last, with her mind carefully blank once more, she called forth the memory she was looking for, examining it and speaking as Ron spoke in her mind's eye.

" _Shina hussy hef!_ "

A snort at her back broke her concentration, and Hermione turned to glare pointedly and the man responsible.

"If you keep giggling like a school girl we will never get into this chamber," she hissed. Severus, so often the picture of stalwart support, had apparently found her attempts to gain access to Slytherin's secret lair entirely too amusing. Each failed attempt to speak the language of her ancestors seemed to provide him with seemingly limitless joviality, and Hermione rather suspected it was the product of seeing her struggle to accomplish a task for once in their long acquaintance.

"I hardly think my reactions have a bearing on the outcome," he answered, shrugging, "I told you an hour ago how we'll accomplish it. All that is left now, is for you to realize I'm right. Forgive me if in the meantime I prefer to take pleasure in your frustrations rather than give in to my own."

"Oh, alright, you cad." Hermione huffed as she stood, yelping as she realized her legs had fallen asleep. She hopped from foot to foot as the sensation returned in thousands of tickling pinpricks. This time, Severus really did laugh, before reaching out and sweeping her up and into his arms, taking the pressure from her legs and staring down at her in amusement.

"It serves you right for your stubbornness," he told her, and she flicked his nose in response. He held her for a while longer, and as he looked down at her, his gaze searching, Hermione thought he might kiss her… but before he could, he was setting her down again and reaching into his robes only to withdraw his wand.

"Now," he asked, "are you ready to do this my way?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose but nodded. "I really wish your way involved less blood."

"We're about to erect heavy blood-wards using Dark Magic in the girls' toilet, and you're worried about bleeding a bit?"

"Hmmm," was Hermione's only—noncommittal—response.

Severus set to work after that, as it became clear that she would not argue further. He conjured a stone basin and produced the same silver dagger he had used to cut her arm the night she had found out the truth of her parentage, before summoning something with his wand that came zooming through one of the high windows of the bathroom. Hermione watched as he set the fragile looking, leather bound tome down on the sink. She cringed, hoping that there wasn't any standing water waiting to ruin the fragile volume.

"You really ought to take better care of that," she admonished.

"Worried for your family heirlooms?"

"Hardly," Hermione dismissed. "Only for a rather important piece of history…" A pause, and then, "Do you think this was what led _him_ to the Chamber?"

Severus paused as he flipped through the journal's pages, looking up to consider her question before nodding. "Yes, it's very likely. He knew nothing of his family history upon attending Hogwarts. All the answers he would have needed are housed here. The headmasters before me were fools to leave them in the restricted section without first thoroughly perusing them."

"Well, I'm glad you confiscated them after your research into the Sanguinis Copulam bond. At the very least, it saved us a trip to the library to retrieve them."

"What happened to 'little miss nervous of blood'?" Severus teased.

"The prospect of getting rid of the diadem has cheered me considerably."

"Very well then, come over here so we may begin."

Hermione joined Severus in front of the sink, catching sight of herself in the mirror as she did so and noticing the dark circles beneath her eyes and the frizziness of her hair. It had been a long night, and it would be yet longer.

"Here it is." Severus turned his head up from the journal at last and gave Hermione a meaningful look.

"Be quick," she ordered, and then extended her arm and squeezed her eyes shut tight.

A warm, steady hand wrapped around her wrist, turning her arm to expose the soft flesh of her forearm. She heard him pick up the dagger and felt the barest sting on her arm before he hissed and withdrew, releasing her as the pained sound grew audibly and her eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was her arm, and a small nick just below her elbow welling with a single drop of blood. Puzzled, she turned her gaze towards Severus. She had been under the impression that there would be rather more blood than that. When her gaze landed on him, it was her turn to gasp.

"Christ, Sev, what are you doing?" she rushed towards him, pulling her wand, only to be stopped as Severus raised a hand in her direction.

"It's alright," he said through gritted teeth, and Hermione froze, her gaze now riveted on his right arm, which he held motionless over the small stone basin he had conjured. The gash on his arm was so deep she thought she could see bone, and the blood was coming extremely quickly. He let it flow for a while longer, until the bowl was half full, before drawing his own wand and tracing it along the wound with a grimace and an incantation she had never heard before. As the wound healed, Hermione let out the breath she had not realized she had been holding.

"You bloody fool," she said, taking his arm in hand and pulling it up to inspect before guiding him over to the sofa on the far wall. "Sit," she ordered, and he did. "What in Merlin's name were you thinking, you could have cut off your arm, or killed yourself!"

"I didn't plan it," he said mildly, looking pale as he took deep, steady breaths.

"So your knife just jumped to your arm and gave it a hack job of its own accord did it? And then your arm just held _itself_ over the great bloody bowl and nearly bled you to death."

"You're exaggerating."

"What were you thinking?!" Asked Hermione, who had conjured a glass of juice and was pouring some potion she'd summoned into it. "Drink this," she demanded tersely.

He did, and when he had, he looked up at her. "The bond," he said by way of explanation. "It wouldn't let me— I couldn't spill your blood for the ritual. My hand moved of its own volition and made the cut, and I decided I wouldn't let the blood go to waste."

Hermione settled heavily onto the seat beside him. Blast and damnit. The bloody bond. She hadn't thought of it recently, not since the compulsion for renewal had seemed to disappear. But here it was again, rearing its damned head, reminding them that they were neither of them beholden to just themselves. Magic older than record flowed in them, making decisions for them, and holding them to the promises they had made by participating in it. For Severus' part, that apparently meant he could not spill her blood, even to participate in ritual magic.

"Shit," Hermione swore. "Alright, I'll do it myself." She stood, moving towards the knife with trepidation until she felt Severus' hand around her upper arm.

"I don't think you'll have to," he said. Hermione must have looked confused, because as he dropped his grip on her arm and made his way towards the knife and blood filled basin, he explained. "The blood wards were devised to allow access to the daughters of Slytherin's line. Those of his descendants who carried his blood but were not gifted with the traditionally male gift of parseltongue, would still need a way to access the Chamber if there was a need. By erecting these wards, you—"

"Grant myself access, yes, I know. You explained all of this before. Salazar's blood runs in my veins, and spilling my blood to protect the Chamber gets me in. I don't see why you're suddenly so reticent for me to do it when minutes ago you were—"

"Would you let me finish a bloody sentence, woman?" Severus looked truly annoyed, and for a moment Hermione felt badly before remembering that she was right.

"Don't you take that tone, Severus Snape. I am not just some child that you can boss around like—"

"The bond made our blood the same," cried Severus, clearly exasperated. Hermione, who was rarely taken aback, paused.

"What?"

"It gave us the same blood. Not in the traditional Muggle sense, but in all the ways that matter, the magical ways, it is the same. Our magical cores were melded when we were married. The magic that suffuses you is in me, and mine in you. If I am not mistaken, the blood ward ritual will draw upon the magical signature in my blood, and recognize it as yours, as a descendent of Salazar Slytherin, and admit me. I hadn't thought of our bond's effect on my blood before I began the ritual, or I would have started off with my own arm and not made it so bloody painful." He drew his arm up, rubbing the thin white line that was the only indication he had nearly bled himself dry minutes before. Hermione watched and thought for a moment. She did not know very much about Wizarding customs. Everything she had learned had been at Severus' hand, or at Keep Avery under her father's instruction. But if what he said was true, it made sense that his blood could substitute for hers in the ritual, and if it didn't, it wasn't as if she couldn't then use her own.

"Alright, give me the book," she snapped, striding forward and wedging herself between him and the sink which held his blood and the fragile old journal with the incantation necessary to erect the wards. "Back up," she ordered, aware of how cross she sounded but unwilling to change it.

The ritual itself was surprisingly simple; A few short phrases in Latin, a pledge to protect the school, and the offering up of Severus' blood. Then, Hermione stepped back rapidly because the sink in front of her was receding, leaving a large pipe in the floor which she supposed she was supposed to jump down. "Fantastic," she said under her breath.

"Shall we?" Severus spoke from behind her, putting a hand on her elbow and looking down at her from where he stood, his black hair sticking slightly to his forehead which was glistening with sweat, a side effect of the Blood Replenishing Potion she had given him.

"After you," she smiled. He leaned forward and kissed her then, his mouth warm over hers, his tongue sweeping the seam of her lips until she opened to him and felt the slick heat enter, running along her teeth before touching her own tongue and then receding.

And then he jumped down the pipe, disappearing into the blackness in an almost comical swirl of robes. Hermione laughed full-throatedly and followed.

The stench at the bottom of the pipe was unbearable. As she stumbled into Severus she gagged, burying her nose in the crook of her arm and looking around. They appeared to be in an underground passage. Debris littered the ground around them, old bones and rubble. They made their way through the passage as quickly as possible, both covering their noses as they walked, passing what looked like the remains of an old basilisk skin, and blasting their way through a cave-in Hermione thought might be where Lockhart's spell had backfired. When they reached the Chamber, they paused at the entrance, taking in the sight before them.

The room was massive, easily as large as the Great Hall, with huge pillars lining a walkway that lead to a gigantic statue of a man Hermione assumed was Salazar Slytherin.

"Rather vain, isn't it?" she said dryly from behind her arm, still blocking out the awful stench in the Chamber. "To put a great big statue of yourself in your panic room?"

"What a waste," hissed Severus in response, and for a moment Hermione was confused, until she saw the source of the ungodly stench permeating the room.

The basilisk lay motionless on the floor, rotted and putrefying, it was still in the process of decomposing. Its two bulbous eyes were gone completely, though from what Hermione remembered of the story, that might have been the work of Fawkes. Its scales seemed to have crumbled to bits around it, and portions of its flesh had turned liquid, sliding off to reveal its bones in patches.

"I wouldn't get too worked up about the thing," said Hermione, "It did try to kill your wife when she was a second year."

"The potions I could have made had this beast been properly preserved," Severus continued, as if he hadn't heard her. "Merlin, this thing is a fortune set ablaze."

"Right. If you could stop waxing poetic about its earning potential, I think we ought to grab the stuff and get out." Hermione motioned towards the head of the basilisk and the countless, razor sharp fangs waiting there to be retrieved. "They'll still be good, won't they?"

Severus nodded, and they moved forward together, reaching down and taking hold of the fangs carefully before pulling, feeling as they slid easily from the jaw. They each took four, depositing them in a rucksack Hermione conjured and fortified to prevent rips, or damage. The last thing she wanted was to be stabbed by one of the bloody things by accident.

Leaving the chamber was made slightly more difficult by the pipe through which they had descended. Eventually, Severus was able to spell them both to resist gravity, and they simply fell up the pipe until they were deposited once more into the girls' bathroom. Looking up as Hermione righted herself, she realized a soft light had begun to filter through the windows on the eastern wall.

"We ought to hurry," she said, turning to face Severus and handing him the rucksack she had worn on their trek back. "Hold this for a minute while I wash the Eau Du Decomposing Basilisk off of my hands." He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder and then eyeing her with an odd look on his face as she cleaned her hands meticulously and splashed her face with cool water. "What?" she asked when she was done. "Did I miss a spot? Have I got dead basilisk on me?"

Severus shook his head and cleared his throat. "No," he assured her. "I was only thinking…" he paused, hesitant. "Perhaps you should head back to the rooms. I can find the diadem on my own, and you can—"

"No!" Hermione spoke immediately, crossing her arms and shaking her head. "No! I'm fine. I'm coming with you."

"Do you really think that wise?" Severus still sounded uncharacteristically tentative, and for some reason that worried her. "Hermione, from what I've heard about Horcruxes, everything I've learned since I became aware of them, they are not the kind of thing you just waltz in and destroy. The diary Potter confronted his second year nearly killed him before he managed to dispose of it." His voice seemed to be growing more sure as he spoke, his expression less hesitant.

"You're only thinking of the worst possible outcome," Hermione argued. "Harry was thirteen years old, and he bested the thing. I think between the two of us, we can-"

He cut her off. "And what if you are in danger and the bond compels me to intercede? What happens when my attention is divided, and my actions hijacked by the magic between us? The danger is not worth the risk, Hermione!"

"I can take care of myself, I'm a grown woman, and I'm more than capable of seeing to my own safety. I wouldn't put you at any risk." He was being ridiculous, and while a part of her could understand his concern, given the injury the bond had done him just a short while before, the larger part thought he was being incredibly sexist and more than a bit insulting. She was not a child, or an incompetent, to be coddled and secreted away for her own protection.

"And if the bit of soul The Dark Lord had stashed in the diadem recognizes you as kin? What then? Have you even thought of the ramifications, of the risk that the fragment might flit to a magical signature resembling its own once the vessel is destroyed?"

"That is completely far-fetched," Hermione dismissed, turning her back to him and heading towards the door. "I'm coming, and your fear mongering isn't going to change my mind."

"I think you misunderstand me," he said, and something about the tone of his voice made her turn and look up at him. He looked less hesitant now, in fact, if she were pressed to name his expression, she would say that it was determined. "Go back to our rooms. I won't have you around the bloody Horcrux. Circe knows what the thing is capable of."

"Severus, don't be daft. I'm coming to help you! I can help—"

"Hermione, I Order you to return to our rooms, and to stay until I join you there. Go."

The compulsion to obey was immediate, and she gasped as she turned her back on him, striding stiffly out of the room as her eyes stung and her throat burned with betrayal at his Order. But there was nothing she could do, no recourse but to obey, and so, she fled at a run, racing up stairs and through corridors until she reached their bedroom and could breathe again before collapsing onto their bed and sobbing like a child.

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 **A/N:** Please don't hate me! Thank you all for the lovely reviews, favs, and follows. And thank you to Oblivion . Baby, who is a paragon of beauty and learning, for her spectacular beta work.


	37. The Vow

**A/N:** Hello, everyone! I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for their continued support, and to point out that this story has reached one thousand followers! This absolutely blows my mind, and I am so grateful to everyone who has enjoyed this story of mine, and let me know by either following, favoriting or reviewing. These things keep me writing, you guys, and help me to find a reason to expend my creative energies in this direction. Bless you all!

Beta Love: oblivion . baby, my sweet, sweet, confectiony dollop of grammatical goodness.

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 **Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Vow**

 **October 5, 1997**

She waited in the dark, her wand trained on the wooden door leading into their sitting room. She had exhausted her supply of tears nearly an hour before, and had focused her energies almost immediately on solutions. The problem, as she saw it, was that her husband had the unfortunate tendency to underestimate her and the heinous power to enforce his opinions. The only way to solve the predicament was by force, and Hermione knew she was quite capable of what she had planned.

She heard him before she saw him, his boots striking the stone floor of the Headmaster's Office as he made his way toward their chambers. Her eyes flashed as she adjusted her grip on the vine wood wand in her hand. He paused on the other side of the door, as if he were listening for her, trying to place her in the room.

"Hermione?" He paused, and Hermione held her breath, eyes still narrowed. "Hermione, can I come in?"

She said nothing, only waited until Severus sighed and turned the handle of the door, pushing it inward and stepping quickly into the room. She watched him for just a moment, noticing the rucksack he had slung over his shoulder and the wand held loosely between his fingers, and then she sprang into action.

" _Incarcerous_ ," she hissed.

Before he could react, the ropes which sprang from Hermione's wand were winding around him, binding his hands and his legs as Severus struggled and the wand dropped from his fingertips to clatter against the floor.

"Hermione!" he gasped, just as a kerchief gagged him and he collapsed to the floor, completely bound and wandless.

"Yes, Severus, you were saying?" She took several steps toward him, pointing her wand haphazardly at the sconces on the walls and lighting them wordlessly. "I'm sorry dear, I'm having a little trouble understanding you." She laughed as Severus' eyes widened at her feet, waving her wand once more to roll him from his side to his back so that she could look down into his face directly.

"Comfortable?" she asked, and cocked her head to the side. Severus stilled and stared up at her, his eyes now narrowed into glittering slits as she studied him.

"None of that," Hermione ordered crossly. "You're lucky ropes are the only thing I've decided to use on you." She paused, thinking for several seconds before shrugging. "For the moment."

Severus tried to speak from behind his gag, but his words were completely obscured, and Hermione sighed audibly. "You know, I really think you've done _enough_ talking tonight. I think I deserve a turn." She settled onto the floor beside him, using her wand to shift him until his head was lying in her lap and she could run her fingers through his hair. She could feel damp sweat at the roots beneath her hand. She watched him as he allowed his eyes to flutter shut at her touch, and then tugged sharply at his locks. His gaze flew open immediately, startled, and she smiled sweetly at him.

"Now pay attention, love," she told him, keeping her voice low as she continued to twirl his black hair in her hands. "I understand that your great, neanderthalic brain thinks it has some sort of advantage over my lesser, feminine organ… hush, no protests. Its obvious, that you think you know better than me, and that you think it's acceptable to impose your preferences despite my own desires, but I really think it's time for you to reexamine your instincts where I am concerned."

Idly, Hermione began to braid a lock of Severus' hair, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead when she was finished and smirking at the look of absolute fury on his face.

"I am not helpless, Severus," she continued with a narrowed gaze. "I am quite capable of defending myself… and of seeking my own retribution. I am, after all, my father's daughter."

At this, Severus rolled his eyes and mumbled something from behind his gag. Hermione responded by digging her nails into his scalp, and he flinched in response.

"What was that, darling? You agree?" And she reached down, untying to the gag he wore and tossing it aside. Severus moved his jaw and lowered it from side to side before looking back up at her.

"You may wrap yourself in the icy exterior you've attempted to cultivate, Hermione, but I know it's nothing more than a facade. I am not some common Death Eater to be intimidated by your blood. I am your husband, dammit."

"Funny," spat Hermione, who stood abruptly and let Severus' head hit the hardwood floor with a thunk. "I rather thought you were my gaoler. You played the part rather convincingly this evening."

"Hermione," he said with a pained note in his voice.

"No," Hermione hissed, and whirled back to face him with her wand drawn. "I'm not interested in your penitence. _Get up_." She released his bonds with a flick of her wand and levitated his own wand towards him. He looked confused for a moment, until Hermione adjusted herself into a dueling stance.

"Hermione, I'm not going to—"

" _Stupefy_!" she cried, and the jet of red light flew from her wand toward Severus, who raised his wand instinctively to deflect the spell.

"This isn't going to fix anything, please just—"

" _Reducto_!"

" _Protego_!"

A blast reverberated against his shield, and Hermione watched in satisfaction as Severus adjusted his own stance to one more appropriate for dueling. It took several more nasty hexes aimed in his direction, however, before Severus finally took the initiative and began levelling his own spells at Hermione, who snarled response.

Flashes of light and small explosions rocked the room as the pair fought, Severus largely shielding himself, and throwing only the occasionally jinx in response to Hermione's deluge of curses.

"Fight back, you bastard!" she cried as she aimed a slicing curse at his legs. Severus growled, avoiding it narrowly, a long, thin tear opening his robes at the knee.

The duel went on for several minutes more, and as Hermione finally managed to back Severus into one of the corners of the sitting room, she could feel sweat beginning to form on her brow.

" _Lumos Maxima_!" The spell Severus cast took her by surprise, and Hermione winced, squeezing her eyes shut tight and turning her head to the side as she lifted her wand to extinguish the brilliant light. Before she could do so, however, something hard collided against her, pushing her off balance and taking her down to the floor in a tackle.

"Bloody, _fuckering_ shite!" she spat, as she struggled against the figure which was now pinning her to the ground. Her wand had been lost in the flurry of movement, and she began to pinch at any bit of skin she could reach beneath the voluminous robes her attacker wore.

"Gods dammit, you hell cat!" Severus hissed, taking her hands and pinning them deftly above her head as he settled his weight atop her to keep her still. "I was trying to protect you!"

"You were silencing me!" Hermione glared up at him as she stilled, realizing that with his weight and strength she had no chance of escaping until he was ready to let her. The bastard.

"I was preventing the bond from endangering either of us near the Horcrux, you insufferable—"

"YOU TOOK AWAY MY CHOICE, SEVERUS!" She screamed the words into his face and saw his brow furrow as their meaning seemed to sink in. He clenched his jaw.

"Neither of us has any real choice anymore, Hermione. I stole the illusion of autonomy." He released her hands, and she pushed him away immediately, shimmying out from under him and leaning her back against the wall as he raised himself to his knees, a pained expression on his face.

"I am sorry," he said, and Hermione laughed humorlessly.

"For what?" she asked. "Sending me to my room like an errant child, or pissing me off?"

"For hurting you." His answer was barely more than a whisper, and Hermione's heart clenched in her chest, but the indignation she still felt over his treatment of her would not allow her to forgive him just yet, not until she had secured what she had required.

"Empty words," she said, voice cold as she stood, retrieving her wand from the floor and tossing him a contemptuous look as she made her way into the bedroom. Severus followed, giving her only a little space as she moved to the bedside to light the tall candles waiting there.

"Hermione, I had to protect you. The bond—"

"I don't want to hear about the bloody bond," she snapped. "I won't have you using our marriage as an excuse to control me, Severus Snape. You could bloody well have explained to me if you were feeling a compulsion to protect me, and I would have listened!"

"That's rich," Severus scoffed. "I tried to explain to you the dangers that existed, but you, in all of your experience and wisdom, decided that you knew more than I!"

"That wasn't your compulsion speaking, you arse, it was your fear!"

"I was trying to protect you, you insufferable nag!"

"You were trying to tuck me safely out of the way, like some porcelain prize you're afraid will break!"

"You're angry because I love you and am trying to keep you out of harm's way!?"

Hermione growled and rounded on Severus, striding forward and poking him in the chest with her wand, which sparked and singed his robes.

"No," she cried, "I'm furious because your idea of protecting me takes away both my choice and my power! I am not frail, Severus. I am a bloody Dark Princess, and the brightest witch Hogwarts has seen in an age. I am capable of killing a fucking Horcrux and bringing a great bloody Dark Wizard like you to his knees. I don't need you to control me, or tuck me away in some stupidly gallant effort to keep me safe. I am more than capable of protecting myself using the talents I've spent my life cultivating. And I am sick of being doubted, of being underestimated."

As she spoke, she noticed Severus watching her. She was impassioned by the injustice he had done her, and was determined to make her point; she supposed it must be making an impression, because when she was finished speaking, he sat heavily on the bed. He dropped his face into his hands, his dark hair falling down to obscure his expression completely. He seemed torn, and Hermione thought that perhaps the time had come to ask for what she wanted.

"I cannot apologize for wanting you safe," he said, his voice hoarse.

"But you can see that forcing the issue was wrong?" Hermione pressed, staring at him and watching him intently for signs that he was willing to admit that Ordering her had been a mistake. She realized, as she waited, that whatever his answer, it would be a turning point for them.

"Hermione, I could not see another path. Bond be damned, you are the most important thing in my world… and I cannot bear the thought that you might suffer harm when I can prevent it…" His voice broke and trailed off for nearly a full minute before he spoke again, turning his pained black eyes to face her. "But you're right; my use of the Order was selfish, not altruistic. I was not compelled. And I am sorry."

Hermione let out a relieved breath, vindicated at last, as a weight seemed to lift from her chest. She moved to his side, sitting on the bed and feeling his weight next to her as she grabbed his hand, running her thumb along the ridges of his knuckles. She noticed an ugly burn across the back of his hand and frowned.

"What's this?" she asked. " _Accio Dittany_." The small potion bottle sped into her hand from the bathroom, and she began to tend to the wound.

"The diadem. Burned the shite out of my hand as I tried to stab it. Fucking thing tried to attach itself to my head." Severus winced as Hermione grabbed his other hand, which had burns more extensive and more severe than the ones she had healed already.

"But you destroyed it?" She asked, breathless as she waited for his answer. Severus only nodded, and Hermione exhaled in relief. "Thank God."

They sat in silence as Hermione continued treating the wounds on her husband's hands, watching as skin regrew and knitted itself together, leaving behind only shiny pink flesh, tender, but mostly healed.

"Thank you," Severus said when she was done and had released his hands, corking the dittany again and sending it zooming back to its place in the potions cabinet.

"Don't thank me," Hermione shrugged. "I need your hands relatively comfortable if you're going to make a vow to me." She said it casually, tossing the words out into the air as if they weren't likely to create the sort of arched eyebrows reaction Severus was now giving her.

"Excuse me?"

Hermione cleared her throat, feeling nervous now, but pressing on despite the uncertainty. This had been her plan since he'd walked through the door, hadn't it? And it was no less important now than it had been when she had bound and gagged him. "I said I want you healed so that you can take a vow. An Unbreakable Vow. I know you've apologized, and it isn't that I don't trust you… but Severus, we can never truly be equal in this relationship if one of us holds the type of power you do, over the other. I want you to swear that you will never force me again, and in return, I will vow consideration for the dangers which might compel you. I will not promise to stay cloistered away when there is a threat… but if my actions, or presence become a danger to you… Severus, you're safety is important to me too. If I am putting you in danger, I will rectify the situation, and if that means hiding away in my rooms, so be it. I can't— Severus, what are you doing?"

He was sliding off of the bed, onto his knees beside her, and Hermione watched in astonishment as he moved to face her, his expression unreadable and his posture stiff. Without a word, he lifted his wand, aiming it just over his heart as he reached out with his free hand to place his palm over Hermione's chest and her own pulsing organ.

"Sev—"

"Shut up," he insisted, cutting her off and meeting her gaze, his eyes deep and impenetrable pools. "A vow requires a third, and I will not bring another in to witness. A Magical Oath will have to suffice. You are familiar with how they work?" Hermione's eyes widened, and she nodded. She had read about oaths of this kind over the Summer, when she had been ensconced in the library of Keep Avery. Unlike the Unbreakable Vow, Magical Oaths did not require anyone's participation but the oath taker's, and they did not result in a loss of life, but in something many wizards deemed far worse.

"Hermione Snape," Severus began, his gaze still holding hers steady as his hand warmed the spot over her heart. "I pledge, that I will never again use our bond to force you into compliance. I pledge this on my wand and on my magic, may both be taken from me should I break trust." Intense heat flowed from Severus' hand into Hermione's chest, flooding her with an almost uncomfortable glowing warmth that dissipated nearly as quickly as it had seared her.

"Oh, Severus," Hermione cried, dropping to her own knees, leaving them mere inches apart as she placed her own hand on his chest, mimicking the motions he had made. "Severus Snape, I pledge to honor our bond, and to listen to your concerns about my safety, keeping in mind how my actions affect you, and to make decisions I think will do the least harm. I pledge these thing on my wand and on my magic, may both be taken from me should I break trust."

This time, the heat began in her heart, at the point where her wand was pressed, and rushed through her. It settled in her hand for a moment and then seemed to cross over to Severus, whose eyes widened and whose nostrils flared at the sensation.

"Thank you," Hermione said, her voice hoarse with emotion, and she fell against him, pressing her chest to his and relishing the feel of his arms as they wrapped around her, drawing her as close as possible. She breathed in his scent as her eyes fluttered shut, and she buried her face in his shoulder, letting the silken strands of his hair brush her cheek. He smelled of smoke, sweat, and dust, with a hint of the sour stench of rotted basilisk still clinging to him. Still, despite the offensive odors, she drew in another breath, noting the subtle sandalwood and brandy beneath it all. "Thank you," she repeated.

One of his hands stroked up her back, its fingers twining in the hair at the base of her skull and tilting her face up to give him access. He kissed her, soft and slow at first, but with increasing desperation as they continued to cling to one another. Soon, his mouth was slating above hers, his tongue delving in to brush her teeth as she shivered and then moaned, melting against him with the practiced ease of a familiar lover.

When he broke the kiss, she was little more than a puddle, held boneless in his arms. She made a noise of dissatisfaction as he withdrew, and he chuckled, stroking her cheek with a hand before leaning in to drop a chaste kiss there.

"Perhaps another night," he murmured. "I'm afraid being bound, gagged, and hexed, does little for the male ego." He picked himself up off of the floor, his black robes draping around him as he began to unbutton them. Severus' eyes positively twinkled as he shed the garment and climbed into their bed. Hermione's pupils widened in response.

"You bastard. You're teasing me!"

Severus smirked and held out an arm.

"Come to bed, Hermione."


	38. Prelude

**A/N:** I continue to be overwhelmed by the response to this story. You are all angels and I adore you. In other news, please thank oblivion . baby for her excellent beta work on this chapter! Now, I know many of you have asked for some insight into Severus' brain in the past, and so I give you your very first peek. Enjoy!

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 **Chapter Thirty-Eight: Prelude**

 **October 15, 1997**

Her hair was a mess, just as it always was. Severus watched her as she struggled with it, trying valiantly to hold it all in one hand as she slipped an elastic over the rats nest. The product of her efforts was a haphazard bun on top of her head that left half of the riotous curls threatening to escape and the other pulled so tightly he thought she would begin complaining of headaches shortly. Sighing, he drew his wand and aimed it at her, flicking it this way and that and observing as Hermione jumped and then rolled her eyes at the sensation of her locks rearranging themselves into a tidy chignon at the back of her head.

"Honestly, when did you have time to learn hair dressing spells?" Hermione huffed, giving him a perturbed look but leaving the elegant updo alone.

"You left a book on the coffee table," Severus dismissed, smirking as he looked back down at the scene on the table in front of him. The potion ingredients were splayed out across the surface precisely, set there by his own hand an hour earlier as he had prepared every necessity for the potion they were about to brew. Some of the ingredients were quite dangerous, and he had taken special care to separate those from the rest, spacing them each several inches apart to prevent cross contamination and any potentially fatal reactions.

"Did you remember the jumping nettle?" Hermione asked, her hands now clasped tightly together as she stared down at the ingredients. Severus barely prevented himself from rolling his eyes at the question, but knowing how nervous his young wife must be, he managed to restrain himself.

"I picked it fresh this morning, before Pomona made it to the greenhouses. It's just there." He pointed to a bowl filled with quivering bits of minced nettle, and Hermione let out a breath of air.

"Alright," she said, looking as if she were steeling herself against something. "Let's start."

Severus watched her as she placed her wand on a nearby shelf and began to don a pair of petite dragon hide gloves. Her face, usually embarrassingly expressive, was carefully blank, and he noticed as she moved that there was a stiffness in her extremities that was abnormal for the woman.

"Hermione," he said, keeping his tone as low and as soothing as possible. "If you would feel more comfortable waiting while I—"

"Shut up, Severus."

His brows arched instantly, and he scowled in her direction, crossing his arms and glaring down at the stubborn witch. He was trying to be _nice_ , blast it, and she was being as prickly as a Hungarian Horntail.

"Oh, don't look like that," she continued, lifting a pestle to begin crushing fresh herbs into a paste. "I need to be here. I can't sit in the other room while you do this. I wouldn't be able to think of anything else. Besides, brewing relaxes me."

Severus scoffed, remembering the way her hair had poofed out and her brow furrowed over cauldrons in his classroom. The chit had been an anxious wreck any time he'd gotten within a yard of her, checking and double checking her ingredients, her potion, and her recipes. Watching her work had been like watching a hummingbird in flight, constantly moving at hyper speed, always ready to move on to another location, or project in her case. At any rate, she had hardly ever looked relaxed. Efficient and over concerned, yes, but never at peace with the brewing process.

Of course, it would probably behoove him to keep such observations to himself, and so, Severus sighed and lifted the sharp knife he used for slicing to begin working alongside his wife. For the first several minutes, they accomplished their tasks in tense silence. Hermione sighed occasionally, and Severus made his way through two different ingredients before turning the the cauldron and using his wand to light a flame beneath it. The purified water inside, which was to serve as the potion's base, had been precisely measured before Hermione had even woken for the day.

"Sev?" Her voice was so quiet he almost missed it. Severus looked up from his work, his gaze landing on his wife where she stood beside the table, her hands unmoving as she stared down at the table.

He cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"What were you like as a boy?"

"What was I—" Confused, Severus narrowed his gaze before stowing his wand away and leaning back against the table the cauldron rested upon. "What kind of a question is that?"

Hermione dropped her pestle and crossed her arms defensively as Severus watched her.

"There's no need to take a tone," she said.

"A tone? Don't be ridiculous." He tried to keep his voice even. Hermione was being irrational, and he knew from experience that it would not do to contribute to her ire. "I was merely asking where your query came from."

"Ridiculous," Hermione repeated, turning the word over in her mouth as if she had never heard it before. Severus tried to keep from wincing and gave her a penitent look.

"I was confused," he elaborated, doing his best to extend an olive branch, "at your interest in my past. It is not something we have ever discussed."

Hermione shrugged and leaned against the table beside him. Severus watched her out of the corner of his eye as she moved. Her almost elfin ears were being tickled by stray curls, short enough that they had not been caught up in the chignon he had created for her.

"I think it's a natural curiosity," Hermione said, looking up at him as she spoke. "You had a life before we were married, Severus, before I even knew you existed. You had a personality all your own from the time you could breathe… and if nothing changes in the next two weeks… well, we'll have a child of our own, and it will be like you, and like me, and I suppose I'd like to know what to expect."

His heart stilled in his chest, and Severus tried to remember how to breathe. There it was, the truth they had been ignoring since the Dark Lord had told them what he wanted from them. Whatever its origins, whatever Lord Voldemort's designs for it were… the ritual they were preparing for tonight would result in a child. The concept, which before had seemed nebulous and far away, suddenly became a very tangible, very immediate possibility. He exhaled and then drew in a new breath, trying hard to ignore the mounting anxiety within.

"Severus?"

Hermione looked at him expectantly, and he glowered, though the expression seemed not to affect her.

"I was a putrid little waif, with little in the way of possessions, or friends. I'm sure any child of mine would be equally as off putting."

Hermione laughed, and the sound of it soothed an ache Severus had not known was plaguing him. "Oh, come on," she said, "you're not going to put me off that easily."

He made a noncommittal noise and crossed his own arms, mirroring the way Hermione sat at his side. He felt her eyes on him as he stilled, and tried not to move beneath her gaze as she watched him for nearly a full minute. At last, she spoke, and Severus felt a particular satisfaction that he had not been the one to break their silence.

"I was very curious as a child. I spent a lot of time asking my mum and dad why things were they way they were," she said.

"I hardly think I need you to tell me what your childhood was like," Severus drawled, "I was there, if you'll remember." And really, the last thing he needed was to be reminded of his bride's youth, or the fact that he'd known her since well before her first blood. Unfortunately, she ignored him, and continued her speech.

"My hair took forever to grow in as a baby. I'm practically bald in family photos until I turned two, and even then, my hair was so short and curly, that is just sort of bounced around on top of my head like a mop."

"Not much has changed in the last sixteen years, then."

Hermione shot him a scathing look and spoke again.

"My dad took me to church every Sunday. We're catholic, actually. I took my first communion when I was seven, but honestly haven't been much since I started at Hogwarts. When I was eight, I had a crush on a boy named Allen Penworthy. I told him I liked him after class, and he said, "Okay," and then proceeded to ignore me for the rest of our acquaintance. I was obsessed with ballerinas from ages four to six, but gave up on my dream of becoming one after my parents enrolled me in a class, and I discovered exactly how uncoordinated I am. My favorite picture book was a story about a little girl adopting a grandmother—because I hadn't any grandparents of my own— and my first chapter book was The Little Princess. I still read it every summer, actually. With the exception of this past one." She paused, taking a few deep breaths as she seemed to search for something else to say.

For his part, Severus found himself enraptured by her description of a little, Muggle Hermione, being raised by parents who loved her enough to pay for her to take ballet. How nice it must have been, to only be bothered by little disappointments. He was reminded, for a moment, of his own childhood friend, a girl only a little like the women standing before him now. How often had he envied her the seemingly idyllic life she led, with a mother who had doted on her, and a father who had never imbibed to excess? Now, here was his own wife, eager to share her own happy experiences with him. What a pity, he thought, that all he had to give in return was darkness.

"We had a cat when I was small. Her name was Contessa, and she was an absolute terror. Twice, she clawed my bedspread to shreds trying to attack my feet as I slept. I was terrified of cats for years after that, until the old beast died, and we adopted a sweet little kitten named Edgar. Oh, and I've never liked watching the telly. I thought it was only for sports until my dad tried to introduce me to cartoons when I was five or six. I much preferred reading though."

Severus snorted at that. "Of course you did."

Hermione's mouth quirked into a near smile, and she looked up at him, uncrossing her arms and threading one through his elbow as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"What about you?" she pressed. "Did you watch a lot of telly?"

He sighed, exasperated at her insistence, but shook his head.

"We didn't have one," he answered after several quiet moments. "Couldn't afford to replace it after my father threw it at a wall." Beside him, Hermione grew completely still, but she said nothing, as if she were willing him to continue. He sighed again, but gave her what she wanted. He thought he always would.

"I was quiet. Unnaturally so. To speak was to beg attention, and attention was the last thing I wanted from either of my parents. My father was a drunkard, and my mother a doormat. I spent my time reading, escaping into the works of any author I could get my hands on. I spent a lot of time at the library before I got my letter. Of course, I knew what I was. I would steal my mother's wand and try to do spells I picked out of old school books. One night, when he was beating her, I grabbed her wand and tried to hex him. It didn't work, and he snapped the thing in half for my efforts." He felt Hermione's hand curl around his bicep, squeezing tightly, but he couldn't keep the words from flowing now that he had begun.

"I was home schooled. My mother didn't want me showing any accidental magic around Muggle children. Luckily, she was an efficient teacher. I was not an unattractive child, though I was rarely without bruises and often poorly groomed. I had a pet mouse that my father one day stepped on to punish me for interfering in his discipline of my mother… and I had a little sister—"

His voice broke despite his best effort, and he blinked rapidly.

"You had a… oh, Severus."

"She was born the summer after my third year, but when I came home for Christmas she… well. That was the holiday my father accidentally fell down the stairs. My mother wanted to bury him next to Messalina, but I wouldn't let her. I couldn't let her spend eternity next to that monster. He ended up in a potter's field somewhere. I honestly couldn't tell you where."

He looked down at Hermione, whose face was buried against his arm, and he felt a damp spot against his arm as she tried not to sniffle.

"It was years ago, Hermione," he said, his voice thick with emotion. This was why he never bloody discussed such things. His past was better left to the dust than resurrected.

"I know," she said, looking up at him, her face glistening with tears. "But I'm allowed to weep for you, Severus. And for her."

He didn't say anything, only nodded, and as he pulled her fully into his arms, she let out a muffled sob.

0-0-0-0-0-0

They had finished the potion in silence after he had bared his soul to her, and it sat in its cauldron now, gently simmering. They took their evening meal alone together, with Pippy serving them both as they sat on the sofa. Severus sat with his back straight when he was done, and Hermione leaned into him, her arm draped across his middle as she held him close.

"If we do go through with the ritual, and I happen to get pregnant…" she said suddenly, and her voice trailed off. Severus lifted his glass of brandy and took a sip before answering.

"If we go through with the ritual, you _will_ conceive," he corrected. She should have no misunderstandings where that was concerned.

"Yes. Thanks for that." Her voice was dry as she grabbed his glass and stole a sip of her own before returning it to him. "In any case, I was thinking that if we do the ritual, I'd like to name the baby after my dad, if its a boy." Severus raised a brow in surprise at the sentiment but remained silent. It was doubtful the Dark Lord would allow them any say in the child's name should they continue on their current course.

"Henry?" asked Severus, who thought he was remembering Mr. Granger's name correctly.

"Mhm. It was his grandfather's name. There's a long line of Grangers named Henry. I thought I would continue the tradition."

"I see only one problem with that," Severus shrugged, keeping his voice low as his hand stroked her upper arm.

"What's that?"

"Our child won't be a Granger, it will be a Snape."

Hermione snorted and stole his glass for another drink, this time not bothering to give it back. "Let me guess," she said, "you want to call him something awful like Caius Aurelius?"

Severus didn't see anything awful about the name but shook his head all the same. "No. The Snapes were Muggles, if you'll recall, and I had a great uncle I was quite fond of as a boy. I would want to name a son after him, I think."

"Oh," said Hermione, contemplative now. "What was his name?"

"Bernard."

"Bernard!? Oh, Severus, you're joking. We can't name a boy _Bernard_. He'd be mercilessly teased. It's an awful name!"

Severus didn't answer, only shrugged and stole back his brandy.

Silence fell between them once more, and they watched the flames in the fireplace opposite them flicker, until at last, Hermione spoke again.

"What will we do if there's a baby, and the war isn't won… or if it is won, but by the wrong side?" Her voice was quiet, and she refused to meet his gaze as she spoke. Severus froze and then turned to look down at her, searching her face before setting his drink on the end table and using his hand to tilt her chin up so that he could look her in the eye.

"We'll win, Hermione, or I'll die trying." And he would, he couldn't bear to live more of his life as the Dark Lord's servant. He knew the cost, and it was his humanity.

"Don't say that!" Hermione cried, "Severus, don't!"

He kissed her then, because he didn't know what else to do or say, and she allowed herself to melt against him until their lips parted and she nestled against his chest once more.

"If it's a girl, we should name her Messalina." Her voice was muffled by his robes, but he felt his heart twinge all the same. "And we'll hide her with Muggles if we have to. Nice ones. We'll modify their memories and make them think they've always had her. And they'll live in America."

"America?" Severus repeated the word, dismayed. "You want her to grow up a yank? Yammering on about 'dudes' and 'far out' and whatnot?" Hermione laughed.

"Honestly, Severus. What decade do you think it is?"

"Hmph."

"Besides, with luck, she wouldn't be with them for long. A few months. A year? We would have her back as soon as _he_ was gone."

"I see." And he did see. He saw her hopeful wish, and it pierced him.

"And maybe, we'll even win the war before she's born, and we won't have to hide her with Muggles at all!"

"American Muggles." Severus expanded, and Hermione nodded against his chest.

"We'll win, and we'll move to the outskirts of some little village. We'll raise her there. I'll work at the Ministry, and you'll come home every evening from Hogwarts, and we'll be perfectly, blissfully happy." Her voice was so low he was having trouble hearing her, but he thought he had caught everything.

"I won't stay on at Hogwarts," he corrected. "I'll stay home with the child."

Hermione glanced up at him, her expression surprised.

"Stay home with the— are you serious?"

Severus arched a brow and inclined his head. "Does that surprise you so very much, that I would want to care for the child myself?" She studied him as if she were considering her answer before she finally spoke.

"No," she said, shaking her head with a half smile on her lips. "No, I don't think it does."

She nestled herself back against him and gave a long, relaxed sigh, and he continued to run his hand up and down her arm. Before long, the steady motion of their combined breaths lulled them both into a quiet, easy sleep.


	39. Farewell

**A/N:** Dear friends, you know you're all amazing right? I realized the other day that this story has over 1100 followers, and over 800 reviews. I am so humbled by your support, and so happy to be able to share my hobby with you. I want to take a moment to let you know that this story is nearing its end. Originally, I had plotted 40 chapters, but since then the story has expanded just a bit, and there are five more chapters plus an epilogue plotted. I am planning to finish them as soon as possible (hopefully by the end of November, but we'll have to see) and to post them all together in a shorter time frame once the story is complete. This means there may be a longer time gap than usual between this chapter and the next, but rest assured the story is not and will not be abandoned. In the meantime, it would mean the world to me if you would take a moment to review with any outstanding questions you have about the story, or loose ends you hope to see resolved. Thank you, beautiful souls, for enjoying this story alongside me. You are marvelous friends and I look forward to finishing it off alongside you!

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Nine: Farewell**

 **October 31, 1997**

There was no moon in the sky above them as they moved across the castle grounds and toward the Forbidden Forest. They walked by the light of their wands, held pointing directly downward, and emitting only enough light to keep them from stumbling over their own feet. It wouldn't do to be seen from the castle behind them, especially considering their purpose tonight. They slipped silently into the forest, and Hermione let out a small sigh, brightening her wand-tip and casting a wary glance at the man beside her. Severus looked grim, and she understood why. The task facing them beneath the dark canopy of gnarled branches and twisted vines was not a pleasant one.

The robes and hooded cloaks they wore now, which snagged against tree branches and rustled dead leaves as they passed, had been sent to them by Voldemort the week before, and were embroidered with a variety of runes that Hermione had not wished to examine too closely. The effect of the intricate patterns and the fine cloth, however, was not unpleasing. She thought that adorned in the ritual robes, she and Severus looked an attractive, imposing, and powerful couple. She took strength from the thought.

They walked for nearly an hour, their pace deliberate and steady, before Hermione felt a prickling at the back of her neck.

"There's someone near," she breathed, her voice hushed as she took a step nearer to Severus and looped her arm through his. His spine stiffened as he seemed to examine their surroundings before his lips curled into a sneer and his grip loosened on his wand.

"Come out, Potter," he said, and Hermione's heart beat rapidly against her chest. To her right, something in the shadows shifted, and a dark form stepped forward, raising what looked to be a wand in their direction. Hermione raised her own wand in response, straining to see through the darkness.

"Snape," came the unmistakeable voice of Harry Potter, a touch of contempt and spades full of wariness in his tone. "I thought you were coming alone."

" _Lumos_ ," said Hermione, voice clear as her wand bathed the small clearing they had entered in light. "Hello, Harry."

She could see him clearly now, and she took the opportunity to examine him. His green eyes widened, and his eyebrows arched up as he lifted his free hand to run through his hair, a nervous habit he had acquired since entering adolescence. He was beginning to look too thin, she thought, and wondered what on earth he had been eating since he'd been on the run. Had Dumbledore not been feeding them since they had left Grimmauld Place?

"Hermione," he said, his tone somewhere between hope and suspicion. "I didn't think you were coming— What are you wearing?" Hermione lowered her hood and arched a brow, looking down at the ceremonial robes before shrugging.

"Have we really trekked past Hogwarts' wards and into the heart of the Forbidden Forest to talk fashion, Potter?" Severus' voice was cutting in the darkness, and she watched as Harry's cheeks flushed in response. To his credit, however, The Boy Who Lived said nothing in response, turning his gaze back to Hermione instead, his wand still trained on her.

"In fourth year, when you brewed Polyjuice Potion, where did you get the Boomslang Skin?" he asked.

"You know very well I brewed that potion in second year, Harry, and Severus already knows I stole stores from him in my foolish youth. Fourth year, honestly. As if I needed that long."

Harry had the grace to smile—though it was half grimace— and turned his wand on Severus instead.

"Why'd you stop giving me Occlumency lessons?"

Severus sneered again and rolled his eyes.

"Because you're a talentless child, with barely enough focus to work magic of that caliber, let alone to keep yourself from snooping into the personal belongings of others. Now, if you are quite finished with this nonsense, I think it is in your best interest to take me to Professor Dumbledore."

Harry glared but dropped his wand, turning his back on the pair of them and leading them through the trees. Hermione followed first with Severus on her heels as they walked for several minutes more before reaching another clearing. At first glance, the place looked deserted, but as Harry raised his wand and stepped into the grassy area, there was a shimmer in the air and a tent revealed itself, pitched in the middle of the clearing with a man slouched in front of the flap. He stood abruptly as the three of them came into sight, and Hermione felt another twinge in her chest.

"Blimey Harry, I thought you'd gotten yourself lost you were gone so—" He froze the moment his eyes landed on the couple standing behind Harry, and an odd, sad look swept over his features before they settled into a blank mask Hermione had not thought the redhead capable of.

"Hermione. Snape."

"Hello, Ron." She stopped, unsure of what else to say as Harry moved to join Ron beside the tent.

"You're looking scary," Ron remarked, saving her the trouble of breaking the odd silence which was threatening to engulf them. She laughed and squeezed Severus' hand reassuringly, unsure of when exactly it had ended up in her own.

"You always know exactly what to say to put a girl at ease," she teased, and the mood, which had been stiff and awkward seconds before, melted instantly into a more familiar, if still slightly icy, camaraderie.

"Where is Dumbledore?" Severus asked, his voice cutting through the air, short and clipped. The young men in front of the tent shifted uncomfortably, each glancing behind them at the flap. Severus let go of Hermione's hand, and she felt the loss of its warmth keenly.

"He's resting," Harry finally answered. His voice was stiff.

"Did he tell you why he needed Severus to—"

"He told me," Harry interrupted, and Hermione nodded once, swallowing as she glanced back at the entrance of the tent.

"Then you understand that when I emerge from the tent—"

"I said he told me, alright?" Harry's voice was raised now, and his expression was thunderous. Beside him, Ron shifted and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"They're just making sure we know what's coming, mate."

"Ron's right, Harry," Hermione agreed. "We just want you both to be prepared for what's about to happen."

Harry let out a strangled, mirthless laugh, and sank down to sit on a fallen tree beside the tent. "I don't know what the pair of you expect me to say." He crossed his arms, a mutinous, bitter expression on his face now. "I've been ordered to stand by while your _husband_ here, murders the one man with enough power to defeat You-Know-Who. Please excuse me if I'm not exactly thrilled by that plan."

"Harry, you must know he's already dying. He can't last much longer than—"

"He knows, Hermione," said Ron, raising a hand in her direction. "It doesn't make it any easier though, does it?"

Hermione sighed but shook her head. "No," she said. "No, it doesn't."

"Have you both spoken with him already?" Severus asked, ignoring the conversation the three friends had initiated completely.

Harry glanced up and nodded once before letting his head fall into his hands.

"Very well. Hermione?" Severus looked at her, his head tilted to the side in question, and she shook her head. No, she didn't have a particular desire to speak to Albus Dumbledore again. Whatever trust she had had in him before, whatever man she had thought him to be in her youth… she understood now that he was as flawed as the Dark Lord. He had sent her to spy on Voldemort without truly preparing her for the cost, and even if he was a good man at heart, which she admitted was entirely likely… she no longer carried the same fondness for the old wizard that her friends seemed to.

Without another word or even a look towards any of them, Severus swept forward, his dark robes rustling over the dead grass in the clearing as he ducked into the tent and disappeared, his wand in hand. As the hem of his cloak cleared the entrance, Harry made as if to stand and follow, but Ron stopped him, both hands grabbing Harry's shoulders and holding him in place.

"You heard what Dumbledore said," Ron reminded him, his own expression pained as he spoke. "He doesn't want you having to watch. He _trusts_ Snape."

"Maybe he shouldn't," spat Harry, before whirling on Hermione, who still stood perfectly still behind him, her hands folded within the cloak she wore. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Harry, stop it," she answered impatiently. "You're not angry at me; you're sad about Dumbledore."

"Like hell I'm not." Harry pushed his way past Ron and moved to stand directly in front of Hermione, his whole body shaking as he seethed at her. "You lied to me!"

"I'm sorry," said Hermione immediately, and watched in amazement as Harry winced and turned back around to face the tent, his shoulders slumping as he sniffed and let out a shaky breath. "Harry…" Her heart ached for her friend, for the boy who had won her loyalty first year and kept it through his bravery and his ever enduring loyalty in return. "I am so sorry. I didn't want to lie to you… but I was scared. And cowardly. I thought if you knew the truth, you wouldn't want me as a friend anymore. I was stupid, and unfaithful, and I am so, so sorry." Her voice broke as she finished, and hot tears she had not realized she was holding back began to overflow and spill down her cheeks. "I was wrong to keep the truth from you, Harry."

"Yeah, you were," said Ron from behind her, and Hermione turned her face towards him, noting the way he held himself gingerly, as if he were somehow in pain.

"Ron," she said, her voice hoarse with tears. "Ron, I am sorry. I didn't mean to hurt either of you… I didn't marry Severus to hurt you."

Ron blinked, his blue eyes intense as he watched her and sniffed once. He lifted his arm and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "I know," he said. "But you should have trusted us in the first place. We're not the bloody enemy, are we? We're your friends. Or we were."

"You still are!" Hermione cried. "Ron, everything I've been doing has been to help the both of you! I found a bloody Horcrux for the pair of you! I stayed all Summer with the Dark Lord for you!"

"The Dark Lord? Merlin, Hermione, you're starting to sound like one of them."

It was Hermione's turn to wince, and she crossed her arms over her breasts as she did so, as if that could keep her wildly beating heart from breaking open her chest.

"Leave it, Ron." Harry spoke sternly, though he did not move his gaze from the tent, didn't bother to face them as he spoke with all the authority of a general. Hermione was surprised by the tone, by the strength and the steel he seemed to have gained in her absence. He turned back to face her, and her breath caught at the thunderous expression he wore.

"Are you really his daughter?" he asked, his words clear but clipped.

Hermione swallowed and watched the two boys— _men_ —in front of her as they stood breathlessly waiting for her answer. She couldn't tell what they were looking for, a confirmation or a disavowal, but she knew she couldn't lie to them again. Not about this.

"Yes," she said, drawing her cloak more tightly around her, as if the acromantula silk could protect her from judgement.

"Blimey," uttered Ron, sinking down to sit on the same fallen tree that Harry had been perched on minutes before. "I half thought Dumbledore was taking the mickey the first time he told us, after Grimmauld Place. And then he said you'd been married to the great big bat, and I thought for sure he was off his rocker."

"Ron. Please don't," Hermione pleaded, though she knew her request was unlikely to have any impact on the way Harry and Ron spoke about Severus.

"I'm not trying to be rude." Ron shrugged. "Only telling you what I thought."

"You can't blame us, Hermione." This time it was Harry who spoke, and he sounded more weary than enraged now. "We thought you were safe, in hiding with your parents. And then suddenly you were some sort of spy, related to the monster that killed my parents, and married to the professor who tried his damnedest to make my life hell for six years. It's not as if we didn't have reason to be upset."

"I didn't say you had no reason," said Hermione, but Harry shook his head and raised a hand to cut her off.

"Listen, I get why you didn't want to tell us. I didn't handle it too well at first. It took Dumbledore showing us his memory of you agreeing to his plan to get me to realize you'd done it to protect us and not to sabotage us. I was a bit of a prick about it, honestly." At this, he gave her a sheepish look and ran a hand through his hair. Behind him, Ron looked at his trainers. "Anyway, all of this to say… I forgive you for lying. I understand why you did it. And I'm sorry if I made it necessary."

"Sorry _we_ made it necessary," added Ron.

She didn't know what to say, but the stinging in her eyes was getting a bit ridiculous, and so she blinked and swallowed, nodding at the both of them and biting her lip. "Thank you," she said, and at the smiles the boys gave her she felt the ice she hadn't realized was surrounding her heart melt. She rushed forward, her robes billowing behind her as she threw herself at Harry, knocking him backwards into Ron with an audible "oomph." She wrapped her arms around the pair of them and squeezed with all of her might, wanting nothing more in that moment than to return to the girl she had been months ago, before the spell that had revealed her parentage and changed the course of her life forever. When she felt both Harry and Ron hug her in return, her heart swelled. But the moment was short lived, because even as she wished for the simplicity of the life she had led before, she remembered what she had gained by learning the truth… the man that had been thrust upon her and who had subsequently become the most important person in her life.

"Mione, try not to strangle a bloke." Ron's voice was muffled, Hermione realized, because she was holding him so tightly by the neck that his face was pressed firmly into Harry's shoulder.

"Sorry," she said with a smile, and then let go of the both of them, taking a step back. She adjusted her robes as she tried to regain her composure. Meeting with Harry and Ron again had gone far better than she could possibly have hoped. It was probably a good thing that their reunion had happened with little warning. As it was, she had been preparing herself for the fertility ritual when Severus had received Dumbledore's patronus, and she had jumped at the chance to accompany him on his journey, anything to keep from thinking of the task that faced them later that night.

"I'm really glad—" Harry began, rubbing his arm where Hermione had gripped him; but before he could continue, a flash of green light from within the tent interrupted him, drawing all three of their gazes immediately. Whatever warmth had begun to seep into the clearing after the three friends had cleared the air seemed to evaporate almost instantly.

Hermione watched, her throat painfully tight, as the tent flap extended outward, allowing Severus passage from the interior. He paused in the entrance for only a moment, but it was long enough that Hermione knew he needed time to compose himself.

"Did Dumbledore tell the two of you what he wanted done with his body?" She directed her question at Ron, who she thought was the more likely of the two to be capable of answering her question without saying something to her husband that would make the situation worse than it already was. She glanced back up at Severus as she waited for an answer, cataloguing the myriad differences in his expression that told her she was looking not at the man she had become so accustomed to these past months, but at the Death Eater she had been bound to at her father's command. His mask was up, his defenses in place, and while a part of her ached for him, knowing that he had been wounded by Dumbledore's last order, a smaller part rejoiced. She had learned how to handle the Death Eater Severus Snape, and it would be a simple matter to raise her own defenses and let the Dark Lord's Heir handle the man.

"He wants to be cremated," Ron answered, tearing his eyes away from Severus and looking up at Hermione. "Ideally, he wanted to be buried at Hogwarts, I think, but if we can't get him there—"

"If all goes as planned, burying him on the grounds won't be an issue." Severus spoke with little inflection, and as the trio watched him, he moved from the entrance of the tent to stand beside Hermione. She continued to watch him as he moved, and as he stilled beside her, she realized she had been wrong. There was darkness in Severus' eyes, yes, but also a pain so acute it nearly took her breath away. He didn't need Voldemort's daughter to command him, she thought, he required a wife to console him. She reached her arm out at once, taking his large hand into her own smaller one, squeezing tightly and not caring that he didn't return the action.

"He told you the plan then?" Harry's voice, while largely controlled, held a noticeable hint of skepticism that pained Hermione to hear, but she knew that chiding him would do little good, and that Severus would not appreciate her interference now, so she stayed silent.

"Hogwarts. Tonight. Gather only the necessities, and be ready for me when I return." Severus' words were harsh and clipped. He wasted no time on sentiment or explanation, only tightened his grip on Hermione's hand.

Harry nodded stiffly and moved without a word to the tent, casting one unreadable glance over his shoulder at Hermione before disappearing inside.

"Severus, what did Dumbledore—"

"Mr. Weasley," Severus interrupted, and Hermione fell silent, her gaze narrowing. "Make sure Mr. Potter does as he's told."

Ron crossed his arms, his broad shoulders creating a veritable wall between his former Potions teacher and the tent Harry had gone into. "I'll make sure he does what Dumbledore would have wanted, Professor."

Severus nodded, and Hermione looked fretfully at Ron, meeting his wide blue gaze and giving him as reassuring a smile as she could manage before Severus took a step and she felt everything around her compress uncomfortably as they Apparated from the clearing.


	40. Return and Report

**A/N:** Okay, so I managed to get two and a half chapters written, and should be able to turn that half a chapter into a whole chapter sometime tonight. With a bit of luck, I should be finished with the whole story by Christmas. But I decided I couldn't keep from sharing with you all any longer. She here is chapter forty! A million thanks to , who continues to be the most brilliant beta in the world. And Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends!

* * *

 **Chapter Forty: Return and Report**

 **October 31, 1997**

He Apparated them directly to their bedroom, bypassing the the school's wards with little effort and depositing Hermione on the bed without a word as she began to stumble. He turned his back on her immediately, unable to force himself to watch as she righted herself. He couldn't bear to look at her, filthy as he was.

"Severus?" her voice was tentative, questioning, too bloody kind. He ignored her, taking a shuddering breath to steady himself before crossing to the wardrobe and thrusting up open in search of the only thing he was worthy of. "Please, look at me," she begged, and he froze, his fingers having landed on the silver mask he wanted so badly to hide behind. He felt a hand on his shoulder, small and warm even through the acromantula silk robes he wore.

"What do you hope you will see?" he asked, managing to keep his voice even and measured as he spoke. He pulled the mask he held from its place on the shelf, the cool metal a contrast to the warmth of the woman behind him.

"Tell me what's going on," Hermione prompted, drawing him backwards toward the bed. He allowed her to lead him to its edge and sat stiffly beside her, the Death Eater's mask sitting heavily on his lap and his hands settled stiffly on his knees. He forced himself to look at her then, his face emotionless as he assessed her. She looked worried, her brows knitted together in concern as her lips pressed tightly together, her jaw tense. He wondered how she could still manage to look beautiful when she was so obviously troubled.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Severus dismissed, though he knew she would not be so easily dissuaded. As if to confirm his expectations, Hermione scoffed.

"You don't actually expect for me to let the matter drop," she said.

"And if I do?" Severus asked. "If I were to ask you to leave well enough alone?"

"Severus, please, don't hide from me."

"I'm sitting right beside you, Hermione."

"You know what I mean." She placed a hand on his thigh, squeezing lightly and leaning into him as she let her head rest on his shoulder.

And he did know what she meant, dammit. But he couldn't give her what she wanted from him and still have enough composure to do what needed doing in just a few short hours. He couldn't relive what he had done in that cursed tent, what Dumbledore had told him, and still have the strength to carry out the remainder of the old fool's plans. So he did what he always did, what had kept him alive all these many years and in the pockets of the two most powerful wizards in England. Half truths and diversion.

"He had a plan. He left it to me to carry out."

"A plan? Dumbledore had a plan? For what?"

"The end," Severus answered simply.

"Of what? The Horcruxes? The Dark Lord?" Hermione stood, her hands on her hips as she began to pace in front of him.

"Both. There's only the the snake left now. She'll be with your father. He meant to draw them out."

"Draw them out? Where? You can't mean here. The school is full of children!"

Severus only nodded, and at his confirmation, Hermione swore.

"The foolish man. Does he think the Dark Lord is above killing children? They'll be slaughtered!"

"They will evacuate. I'll bring Potter and Weasley before I go to him, and they will summon the rest of the Order while we storm the castle and—"

"Excuse me," interrupted Hermione, her voice high, "but it sounds as if you think you're going to be fighting with the Death Eaters in this ridiculous hypothetical battle. Was Dumbledore's plan to have you murdered by some Order member who doubts your loyalty?" Severus' hands clenched on his knees, and his spine stiffened.

"Someone will need to bring him, and his followers, to the battle. And if we expect for this to succeed, I will need to stay close to him long enough for Potter to—"

"I'm sorry, but Dumbledore expects Harry to take out The Dark Lord? Severus this is ridiculous! You want to bring an army of murderers to a school full of children and have a man barely grown go up against their leader as if he has a chance in hell of winning? He'll be killed!"

"WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO!?" Severus' voice thundered as he sprang from the bed, his temper getting the better of him as the misgivings he had himself were voiced by the stubborn woman he was bound to. "Shall I ignore Dumbledore's dying wish? Shall I let the Dark Lord pick the time and place of the final battle to his advantage? Should I delay and take you instead to the grove in which he's planned for me to rape you? Would you like that, Hermione? To be bred like a mare in front of his filthy followers, all eager to get a glimpse what belongs to me?" He crossed to her in two long strides, grabbing her by the arms more forcefully than he ought to as he glared down into her eyes. "Tell me what to do instead!" he demanded. "Because I am at a loss, and the only way I can see to go on was outlined to me in that tent by a dying man I went on to murder!"

His breath was coming in great heaving gasps now as he stared down into her brown eyes which were widened in surprise at his forcefulness. He regretted for a moment the violence of his outburst, but before he could calm enough to release her, she was shaking him off, and instead of pushing him away as he thought she would, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Startled, his eyes widened, and he moved to separate himself from her, but she clung to him, raising up onto the tips of her toes and pressing her mouth to his. He froze, feeling the warmth of her lips against his, moving slowly as she coaxed his own mouth to open just enough that she could slip her tongue between the tight seam of his lips. His eyes fluttered shut as the sensation of her hot mouth and the scent of her flooded him.

As if of their own accord, his arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her flush against him with a desperation he had not expected. She melted against him, and that easy acquiescence lit a fire inside of him; it made the deep, dark places in his soul— the ones that craved her beyond reason—waken and hunger. The kiss, which had been gentle at the outset, deepened with a vigor he did not try to hide. He claimed her mouth with his, stole control of the kiss from her and plundered her mouth. His tongue swept over her teeth, between them, and against her tongue as one of his hands dropped to cup her arse, the tips of his fingers tracing a line down its cleft through the silk of her robes. In response, her hips pressed against him more tightly, trapping his quickly stiffening member between them. He groaned.

Without giving her quarter, he lifted her from the floor, twirling her until the backs of her thighs were pressed solidly against the bed and then breaking their kiss as he pushed her down onto her back. He watched her as she laid there, letting her see the hunger her felt for her through his gaze as she licked her lips. Her eyes were hooded and filled with the same desperate longing he knew was etched across his face. Merlin, what a bloody terrible spy he must be, unable even to keep from broadcasting his desire so blatantly to the enchanting witch splayed across his bed.

With a frustrated growl he descended on her, one hand yanking up the fabric of her robes as his knees spread her legs open. He was electrified to find her bare beneath the swathes of fabric, save for a small scrap of peach colored lace between her thighs. Satisfied, he leaned down over her settling his hips over hers so that she could feel his desire pressing tightly against her.

Her hands twined in his hair, and he allowed his eyes to flutter shut once more as she drew him down for another drugging kiss. He lost himself in the boiling heat and the pure joy of her kiss, his own hands wandering up and down her sides as he made love to her with his mouth, his length growing painfully stiff as her teeth sank into his lower lip and she whimpered. Unthinking, he lifted his own robes to his waist, unbuttoning his trousers and freeing his cock. Beneath him, Hermione shifted, thrusting up against him and causing him to curse as she broke their kiss and looked up at him with eyes more intoxicating than her lips had been.

"Please," someone said, and Severus thought that it might have been his voice that echoed hoarsely with the plea. "I need you."

She didn't smile - made no answer - only reached down with one hot hand to grab hold of his length and guide it towards her molten quim. He groaned as he felt her move the scrap of lace between her thighs aside, and then his eyes rolled back in his head as he began to sink into her slick heat.

"Christ," he groaned, and she bit his lip again before he could breathe another word, her heels pressing into his arse as she spurred him on.

"Harder," she moaned after several thrusts, and Severus obliged her willingly, letting his frustrations and sorrow pour into her with every sharp snap of his hips. The bruising pace seemed to satisfy her though, because the smirk she had worn faded into a perfect 'o' as her eyes rolled back in her head.

After they were both satisfied, Severus lay spent above her, one hand cupping her breast and stroking its hardened nipple idly as he softened within her. He felt her warm lips kiss his forehead, felt her heart pounding against his cheek as she struggled to regulate her breathing.

"I love you," he murmured against her breast. She stilled, and when one gentle hand moved to stroke through his tangled hair, he knew that she had heard him.

"This isn't a goodbye," she said, her voice fierce and determined. "I'll see you when you return, when the battle begins. I'll come to you."

"Hermione—"

"You can send me a Patronus. Tell me where to meet you."

"Hermione listen to me," he said, looking up at her and pressing a kiss to the soft valley between her luscious breasts.

"I'm listening," she argued, avoiding his gaze. But he wouldn't have it, not now on the eve of battle, not when their future was about to be decided by an idiot boy and an evil megalomaniac.

"Hermione." He said her name for the third time, pushing up onto his elbow and using one hand to tilt her chin downward, to force her to look at him. He could see the worry in her eyes. "I love you," he said again, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes oddly bleary.

She took a shuddering breath and nodded twice, biting her lip, and moving down to kiss him once more. "I love you too," she said. And then, because she was stubborn and pig-headed, she bit his lip. "But this still isn't goodbye."

0-0-0-0-0

The Keep was quiet in the early morning light, and as Severus sat at the dining room table, the only sound he could hear was the low, steady breathing of the Dark Lord as he contemplated the news he had been brought.

 _Potter is in Hogsmeade,_ Severus had told him, _Dumbledore is dead. The fool boy sent an owl to Hermione less than half an hour past. This is our chance, perhaps our only chance, to capture and kill the brat once and for all_!

Of course, Lord Voldemort had been skeptical, but the carefully constructed memories Severus had shown him had served to assuage his master's suspicions, though not his need for contemplation. And so, Severus sat in near total silence, ignoring the tapping of the Dark Lord's fingernails against the long mahogany table as he waited for his orders.

"What did my daughter think of this development, Severusss?" The Dark wizard's voice was cold and thoughtful as he spoke.

Severus tilted his head to the side, contemplating his answer for several seconds before giving it. "She was headstrong and impulsive. She begged me let her go to the boy, to reason with him."

Voldemort scoffed. "Reason with him? Potter has no more sense than a niffler. Even if he did not know I want him dead, there would be little use attempting to bring him to our way of thinking."

"No," Severus agreed, "but your heir is young and still sickeningly idealistic. She struggles with the path she has chosen by my side."

"Has she chosen you, then? Has her obligation to your bond been superseded by a young girl's fantasy of love?" The Dark Lord's eyes glittered as he spoke, and Severus smiled indulgently.

"Though she is your blood, she is still only a girl, enthralled by the notion of a dark prince come to woo her."

"Still loyal to Potter though," Voldemort mused. Severus hesitated but nodded. "Well," the Dark Lord continued, "I can't very well do battle with a liability like that wandering about the castle. Pippy!"

A soft 'pop' sounded at Severus' elbow, and he barely managed to keep himself from jumping.

"Master," squeaked a small creature, and Severus recognized the elf at once as the one Hermione had been gifted months prior. Well, that was the mystery of where the elf's loyalty lay solved.

"Return to Hogwarts, and keep my daughter within her chambers until I say otherwise. Is that understood, elf?"

Pippy bowed low, her ears brushing the ground as she trembled, until Lord Voldemort waved a hand to dismiss her. Just as quickly as she had come, she left with another soft pop of elfin Apparition. Severus felt his stomach clench as he imagined Hermione's reaction to being confined to their suite while those she cared for put their lives in peril just yards away. He knew she would not be pleased, but if he were being honest with himself, he would have to admit that the idea of having her out of harm's way was not an unpleasant one. With his young bride ensconced safely behind elvish wards, it would be easier to do what he suspected would be required of him.

"Your arm, Severus," hissed Voldemort after a long moment. In response, Severus rose from his seat and moved to kneel beside the Dark Lord's throne, extending his left forearm as he bowed his head and lowered his gaze to the floor. The tip of his master's wand burned like an ember against his skin, and power flooded through it and into the black, coiling tattoo on his arm, burning strongly enough now to make him feel nauseous with the pain of it. When at last the sensation dulled, Severus looked up into the red eyes of his tormentor and kissed the hand which had wielded the wand.

"Thank you, My Lord, for the honor."

"You'll be at my right hand, Severus," Voldemort said, his voice betraying a twisted affection which, to Severus' shame, he could not help but enjoy. "Now go. Gather the rest. Bring the aurors with you when you come. We attack at dusk, and when Potter is dead at my feet, we will celebrate with the ritual as we had planned."

Severus' stomach clenched again, but he betrayed nothing, merely bowed low to kiss the Dark Lord's hand once more and then rose stiffly to his feet. As he left the room, Yaxley and Nott passed him on their way in, each rubbing their forearms, the pain receding now that they had answered their master's call.

"What's this, Snape?" Yaxley barked.

"I leave all explanations to our Lord," Severus answered, sweeping past the pair and towards the edge of the Anti-Apparition Wards which protected Voldemort's inner sanctum. As his boots hit the flagstone floor, he thought quickly. That the Dark Lord was waiting until dusk to go after Potter was no surprise, but he was not sure whether he had mentioned that there would likely be a day long gap between when he left her and when the battle would commence. He wished he had foreseen the possibility of her confinement, but there was little he could do for her now. If he deviated too drastically from what Voldemort had ordered, if he risked sending a Patronus which the cursed house elf might see, there was a very real possibility that the trust which had been placed in him would be lost, and it was essential that not happen. Still… if there were some way to let her know what was happening.

He stumbled as the thought hit him like a hippogriff, taking him completely by surprise, he was ashamed to admit.

"The locket," he muttered under his breath. The enchanted duplicate of his mother's goblin-made locket; the locket he had given Hermione when she was still a student at the school with a protean charm layered over it to make keeping their liaison secret easier. Where had he left his copy of the thing? Had he left it in his old quarters before their move to the headmasters suite? Or had it been in one of the many boxes he had brought to the Keep over the Summer, intending to give the Dark Lord the impression that he was settling into the place.

" _Accio locket_ ," he hissed before he could think better of it, his wand pointed upwards towards the direction of their rooms. After ten seconds, agonizingly counted as he waited, he caught the silver glint of the object he had summoned hurtling around a corner. With unerring skill, he caught the bauble in his hand, letting out a sigh of relief as he opened it and touched the thing with his wand.

 _There_ , he thought, _only one more thing to do now._ Merlin, he hoped Hermione got the message.


	41. Battle

**Chapter Forty-One: Battle**

 **October 31, 1997**

She woke to silence and light. She had not realized as Severus had held her in the predawn hours of the morning, that she was falling asleep, not until it was too late, apparently. She lifted a hand and laid it on top of his pillow, feeling the cool linen against her palm. He had been gone for a while then, and she supposed she wasn't surprised. They had said everything that needed saying already.

Sighing, she made her way into the sitting room, shrugging out of the rune embroidered robes she had still been wearing and pulling on a pair of denims and an old jumper instead. The outfit was neither pretty nor magical, but it was warm and comforting, and right now she needed that. She settled onto the sofa facing the window, a book in her lap. She wanted to be able to see his Patronus when he sent it, wanted to know the moment he arrived. She knew that somewhere in Hogsmeade, Harry and Ron were organizing the rest of the Order, and that, soon, she and Severus would begin the work of evacuating students from the grounds, but despite that knowledge, she worried not for the boys or the students, but for her husband. He had not told her how dangerous this last mission of Dumbledore's was, but she knew. To draw the Dark Lord in, to tempt him into a battle not of his choosing… it would take a great deal of cunning and effort.

She snapped the book on her lap shut just as something snapped inside of her. How could she think of sitting around while he risked his life, while Harry and Ron risked theirs? She had become complacent in this ridiculous pureblood world Voldemort had created around her. Had she really come to believe that it was better to sit and wait than to spring into action? No, dammit. She was still Hermione Granger, had still been raised to stand up to bullies and to overthrow despots. She was a Gryffindor by right, and no matter whose blood ran in her veins, courage ran thicker.

She stood, summoning her wand wordlessly from the bedside table, catching it with ease.

" _Expecto Patronum_!" The playful otter burst from the end of her wand as she watched, gamboling playfully through the air before settling on the coffee table to wait for her command. "Harry, I want to help," she said, touching the silver mist with the tip of her wand and watching as it glowed, repeating her words back to her. "Wait for me at the cave where Snuffles hid. I'll be there soon." When she was through, she sent the otter flying off through the air and toward the open window. Just as the Patronus reached the open air, however, it seemed to explode into wisps of white light, dispersing as if along an invisible wall over the window.

Startled, Hermione approached the casement, her wand still drawn and held stiffly in her hand toward where the Patronus had been destroyed. When she was within three feet of it, she leant forward and inspected the open air but found nothing. " _Aguamenti_ ," she said, watching as a thin stream of water shot from her wand and towards the window. She thought for a moment that perhaps what had happened to the Patronus had been a fluke, but just when the jet of liquid was about to clear the exit, it began to splash as if against glass, streaming down in rivulets to run down the casement and the wall to the wood floor.

"What on earth?" Hermione breathed, reaching out one hand and taking another step closer. She extended her arm slowly, hesitating for a moment before finally laying her palm flat against what felt like a solid wall of sizzling electricity, hot and sparking against her palm.

"No. NO!" Hermione shouted as she lifted her wand again, sending an exploding hex at first the wall of magic hanging in the air, and then the stone wall beside it. Neither reacted, and Hermione spun around, running barefoot to the door leading into the headmaster's office and reaching for the handle. The same scorching barrier that hung in the air behind her seemed to coat the door, and Hermione hissed, releasing her grip and retreating far enough away that the " _Bombarda Maxima_!" she threw at it would not rebound and take her out. Here too, the spell was ineffective. Enraged, Hermione ran at the door. She beat her fists against the solid oak and threw her body against it as she wailed.

"Let me out of here! Severus! Someone! Let me out of here!" Just as she was about to renew her assault with magic, she faltered. Something warm was beginning to glow against the sensitive skin between her breasts. The locket Severus had given her soon after they had been bound, which normally hung unnoticed beneath her clothes and took its temperature from her body, was beginning to warm considerably, drawing her attention to it and away from the wards imprisoning her. Hastily, she withdrew the pendant, opening it to read the words she knew would be etched on the interior.

 _Elf Magic. Dark Lord's Orders. Dusk._ _SS_.

Elf Magic on the Dark Lord's orders? Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Pippy!"

"Yes Mistress?" The squeaking voice came behind her, and Hermione turned to face the cowering creature where she stood, hands meekly folded in front of her and bulbous eyes downcast, as if she were not keeping the human there against her will.

"Is this your doing?" Hermione questioned, doing her level best to keep her tone even.

The house elf glanced at the window and nodded in shame. "Yes, Mistress."

"Reverse it at once," Hermione demanded, and then stared in shock as the little elf burst into noisome tears and collapsed into a tearful heap on the floor and beating her little fists against the hardwood.

"Oh, Pippy is a bad elf. Wicked elf! Keeping Mistress confined against her wishes! But the Master commanded it. Told Pippy to trap her!" The house elf began to beat her wide forehead against the ground as she wept. "Oh, bad Pippy, BAD Pippy! She is deserving clothes!"

Clothes. Now there was an idea. "Pippy," Hermione began, "If I were to give you clothes, would that free you?" The sobs increased in volume, and Hermione hissed impatiently, pointing her wand at the distraught elf and silencing her. "Pippy, compose yourself at once and answer me!" In response, the house elf looked up, her eyes still streaming tears as she shook her head. It was Voldemort then, who owned the elf, despite the show he had made of gifting her to Hermione. She ought to have known. What were her options then? Elf magic was incredibly powerful, short of freeing or killing her… Hermione shook her head, dismissing the thought at once. No matter how different she might be, how much she had changed, she couldn't murder an innocent… could she?

Hermione took a step towards the silently crying elf, her hand tightening around her wand reflexively before she managed to force herself to stop, to breathe.

"Leave me at once," she hissed before she could think better of it. With wide eyes, the elf quivered and disappeared.

She would just have to find another way out of this place, thought Hermione. After all, she wasn't the brightest witch in her year for nothing.

0-0-0-0-0

They Apparated in, just as the sun sank beneath the horizon. There were more of their number than Severus had expected, as the giants, werewolves, trolls, and acromantulas had all joined with Voldemort's forces on the eve of battle, but if Potter had done his job, if he had been able to collect everyone Dumbledore had insisted would come, their numbers might just be more even than expected. Wand drawn and ready to deflect any curses thrown his way, Severus took a moment to survey their surroundings.

"What is this, Severus?" the Dark Lord hissed from beside him, while Nagini wound around his legs and added her own hisses to her master's.

His eyes landed on the large metal gate at the Hogwarts entrance, and Severus breathed a sigh of relief internally. "My Lord, it appears as if the school's wards have been activated."

"What is the meaning of this? You told me you would lower the wards before our arrival! We are supposed to be on the front lawn, Severus!"

"Forgive me, I did as you asked!" Severus fell to his knees and bowed his head. "But My Lord, if Potter is already within… it is possible that the staff has betrayed us and taken control of the school." It was more than a possibility, Severus knew. He had shown Potter the way into the castle himself before he had first gone to the Dark Lord, had shown him the journal he would need to give to Minerva so that she could instate herself as headmistress. Thank Merlin the boy had managed to stick to the plan.

"I am disappointed in you, Severusss…" Voldemort's voice trailed off into shadow as the rest of their company stood still as stone, waiting for his order. "But no matter. These wards were not meant to sustain an assault such as ours. They will be but a temporary hindrance… Nott! Yaxley!"

"My Lord," the men murmured in unison as they stepped into view from behind him.

"Have your soldiers begin the—"

Before he could finish his command, however, there was a deafening sizzling sound, and the wards, which had shielded the school from their entrance, lit up the evening sky like dragon fire for a moment before fading into nothingness. Behind them, the Death Eaters, Ministry Aurors, and the Dark creatures who had joined them, began to murmur and cry out in surprise.

" _Stupefy_!" The first spell rang out from behind them in a thick Scottish brogue. Severus would have recognized the voice anywhere, and a glance at the snake faced man at his side confirmed that he did to. Before either of them could properly respond, however, a chorus of voices rang out further incantations, and the Disillusionment Charms, which had been hiding the Order members, melted away, revealing them to the the surrounded Death Eaters as their curses rained down on the Dark wizards.

" _Protego_!" Severus called out, shielding himself from the volley of hexes which were landing around him. After the initial surprise of the Order's appearance, there was a frenzy of action, and the battle commenced, the men and women surrounding him spreading out and doing damage to the castle's defenders where they could. As the surprise attack devolved around him, Severus stuck close to the Dark Lord's side, deflecting the curses aimed their way with ease as Lord Voldemort blasted a path through the crowd, making his way past the gates and towards the castle, his expression alight with venomous rage.

A stinging pain caught Severus in his left shoulder as they moved through the battle under cover of the growing darkness. Swearing, he whirled to look in the direction the curse had come from, his wand raised just in time to deflect a second hex from the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Traitor!" she screamed. Behind him, Lord Voldemort spared barely a glance for his lieutenant before he was forced to stop his progress towards the castle, his way blocked by Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Horace Slughorn.

"Have you lost your mind, Bellatrix?" called Severus, deflecting another curse from her wand and, this time, returning the favor in kind. " _Sectumsempra_!"

" _Protego_!" the woman shrieked, grabbing a nearby house elf by the tea towel and holding it up to intercept the stunning spell Severus sent her way. She dropped the elf to the ground carelessly and shot back the Cruciatus, which Severus was barely able to avoid.

"You have betrayed us, Snape! I see through you, you half-breed; you _and_ your pet slut! And I promise you, when we are through here, I will gut her in front of you!"

Severus saw red, taking three quick steps, deflecting another of her curses as he closed the distance between them. When he reached her, he wrapped his hand around her neck, ripping the wand from her grip and snapping it in two over the top of his thigh. The rage in Bella's eyes receded into panic as his other hand joined the first over her throat, and he let the weight of his body drag them both to the ground where he settled over her, intent on strangling the life out of her.

"Snape!" His eyes snapped up at the sound of the familiar, panicked voice, and his blood lust receded just enough as Bellatrix lost consciousness that he was able to loosen his grip and stumble backwards onto his feet. He would leave her to one of the many bloodthirsty creatures swarming the lawn. "Professor!" His eyes narrowed as he searched his field of vision, seeking the boy, seeking Potter.

He spotted him on the his knees several yards away, the Invisibility Cloak he had been wearing pooled in a half circle around him. Potter's green eyes were wild, his face splattered with droplets of blood that shone red in the dying light of the day. "Professor, help me!" he shouted, clutching a body to his chest, his hands scrambling to stem the flow of blood from Weasley's neck. But is was too late, even from this distance, Severus could see that the amount of blood coating the ground where the boy had fallen meant that he would not be getting up again.

Severus darted forward, blasting aside an acromantula on his way to Potter's side, deflecting a stray curse which would have felled him. He sank down beside the boy, his own throat oddly tight as he reached a hand down to feel for a pulse above where the Weasley boy's throat had been sliced. Feeling nothing, Severus looked up into Potter's eyes — _Lily's eyes_ , he remembered—and shook his head.

"No!" the boy shouted, clinging to Weasley's body more tightly as Severus attempted to pry his arms from around it. "Ron! This wasn't supposed to happen!"

" _Protego_!" Severus shouted, erecting a shield just in time to impede a Stunning Spell that had been aimed at Potter's back. He left the the shimmering shield in place as he grabbed the boy by the shoulder, shaking him with one hand to try and get his attention. "There's no time for this, boy!" he screamed above the din of the raging battle around them. "Remember the plan! You can mourn your friend later, or risk losing everything now!" He looked down at Weasley, his skin porcelain beneath the dark wash of red coating him, his eyes wide and unseeing. Hermione would be devastated, he knew, but before he could contemplate her reaction any further, he caught sight of something glinting within the boy's hand. He looked up, taking in Potter's grief, and realizing as he did so, that it would take more than words to remind the boy of what else he stood to lose if he could not control his bloody emotions.

"Eyes on me, Potter," Severus ordered, his fingers closing around the jeweled hilt of Gryffindor's sword as he took it from Weasley's cold hand. Before Harry could question him, Severus stood and began to weave his way through the crowd. He bypassed dueling witches and wizards as if he were a shadow, his eyes intent on only one duel, one man. Sidestepping Molly Weasley, who was doing battle with a frightened looking Dolohov, finally, Severus found himself at the Dark Lord's side once more. His heart was pounding in his ears as he watched the man duel two powerful wizards and a talented witch at once, his effort significant, but not draining the way the battle appeared to be for his opponents. Slughorn seemed to have been injured and was casting Shield Charms from where he sat in the grass, his leg at an odd angle beneath him. Kingsley had been badly burned on one side, and was being forced to duel with his wand in the wrong hand. Of Voldemort's three opponents, McGonagall seemed the least phased by her fight with the Dark Lord, though her dark and silver hair had come undone and was flowing around her shoulders and over her face as she attacked and defended her position.

"Severus, at last," The Dark Lord called aloud when he caught sight of him, sending two consecutive Killing Curses at McGonagall wordlessly. Severus watched as she dodged them both before he stepped closer to Lord Voldemort, the sword in his hand held loosely as he approached. He could see his prize at the Dark Lord's feet, hissing loudly as she caught sight of him and disengaged herself from her master.

"Nagini," said Voldemort, as if to chide her for distancing herself from him, but after a few more seconds of her hissing speech, he seemed to explode, his wand waving in an arch and sending all three of his opponents tumbling backwards as he whirled around to face Severus, who was raising the sword with all his might and strength as he rushed towards the snake; the last Horcrux between Potter and the Dark Lord.

"No!" shrieked Voldemort, but he was too late. The sword was arching down now, one more step and Severus would have the snake within his reach. But he had miscalculated, and as the sword came down, it bit into only earth, and Nagini lunged forward, her fangs bared as her jaw gaped and she collided with him.

He felt the venom before he felt the pain of his flesh being pierced. It burned in his veins, fire in his blood, as it flowed from his carotid to his extremities and on to his heart. As his body went limp, he could feel the sword drop from his hand; and as his vision narrowed to a pinprick of light, he had only one thought:

 _Hermione…_

And the world became blackness.


	42. The Heir Ascendant

**A/N:** Thank you all for your beautiful reviews, favorites, and follows. I adore each and every one of you. And thank you again to for her keen eye!

 **Chapter Forty-Two: The Heir Ascendant**

 **October 31, 1997**

As the sun approached the horizon outside of her quarters, Hermione lay motionless on top of their bed. She had tried everything she could think of to free herself from this place, had looked through every book she owned on wards, cast every vicious hex she could think of at the elvish barrier that kept her confined while her husband and her friends and every damn member of the Order risked their lives to take down the Dark Lord. In her desperation, she had even tried calling for another of the Hogwarts house elves, thinking that if Pippy had been able to trap her here, perhaps another of her kind might be able to dismantle the enchanted cage, but no other elves had responded. She had exhausted herself trying to leave these chambers, and then she had exhausted herself of tears. All to no avail.

She watched the light on the wall opposite her window begin to fade, and she listened for any sound, any hint that the battle might be beginning. The locket had told her Voldemort would attack at dusk, and she doubted Severus would have been mistaken, not about this.

Her first hint that something was amiss came with a flash of light that illuminated her bedchamber and was accompanied by the sizzling sound of a ward burning up its energy and disappearing into the ether. She sprang from her bed to the window, craning her head for a view of the Hogwarts gates as the sound of raised voices were carried on the wind to her, and jets of light began to streak across the grounds in the distance. It had begun.

"Shite," Hermione swore, pushing away from the window and slamming her hands against the wall beside it. "Bloody fucking hell! Pippy!" She tore out of her bedroom and into the sitting room, kicking the books she had laid out on the floor earlier aside without remorse, and headed straight for the exit. "Pippy!" she called again. Why was the blasted elf not answering? She needed out of here! Needed to be free so that she could go to her friends and to her husband below; the people she cared most for in the whole world. She needed to be there to help them! To help him! Even now, Severus could be under attack or injured! She would never forgive herself if she sat idly by while something happened to him. Their hurried lovemaking that morning had not been goodbye, dammit!

"Pippy, come to me at once!" she screamed, beating her fists against the door now as she swore. The elf would take her to him. She would release her enchantments and take Hermione to her husband or, so help her God, she would not be held accountable for what came next. She did not believe in using force against the innocent— but this was war, and perhaps she _could_ rid herself of this obstacle if it meant keeping Severus safe… if it meant finally killing Voldemort.

"PIPPY!" And at last, as she threw her body against the door, it gave way, swinging forward and sending her stumbling into the headmaster's office beyond.

"Watch your step," came a cool, feminine voice from behind her. Wand gripped tightly in her hand, Hermione turned sharply, raising her arm in the direction of the woman who had spoken, faltering as she realized who it was.

"Mrs. Malfoy!" she said in shock. The stately blonde smirked and tucked the wand she held into the sleeve of her robe.

"Narcissa," she corrected. Hermione watched the other woman as she moved forward, side-stepping a small heap on the floor as she made her way towards the staircase through which they would need to descend. For her part, Hermione could barely draw her gaze away from he crumpled elf on the floor, obviously dead at the lovely blonde's hand.

"How did you…" Hermione swallowed.

"Know you were here?" Narcissa supplied, "Severus. I owed him a debt."

"You killed—"

Narcissa's eyes flashed, and her spine straightened as she huffed, crossing her arms impatiently. "I was under the impression you would want to be free to join the battle. If you don't like my methods, I'm sure the Dark Lord would be more than happy to set some other elf as your jailer."

Hermione arched a brow but lowered her wand at long last. "I would have done it myself if I'd been given the opportunity," she said, voice level as she crossed the room to join the older woman. "Shall we?"

She didn't spare another glance for the elf as they left the headmaster's office, and try as she might during their rapid journey through the empty castle, she could not feel even an ounce of remorse.

0-0-0-0-0

By the time they reached large double doors leading out of the castle, Hermione could hear that the battle had moved closer. As the doors opened, this was proven when a streak of red light came shooting through the air and ruffled her hair on its way by. Automatically, Hermione threw up a shield around herself and Narcissa.

"I have to find Draco," the older woman shouted over the din of the battle spread out in front them. "Tell Severus my debt is paid!" And with that, she disappeared into the fray, her blonde hair glinting in the fading light as she was swallowed up by a mass of people. After a deep breath, Hermione followed her.

She kept her eyes wide open as she ran, shooting hexes at people she knew to be Death Eaters, along with anyone else who appeared to be attacking Order members. As she dodged curses flung her way, she realized the scope of the battle she had just entered. This was not just a fight between those who Albus Dumbledore had recruited to his secret society and Voldemort's inner circle. No, its reach went far further than that. Not only had older students apparently remained behind to defend the castle (there was Neville, locked in a duel with Rabastan Lestrange!), but they had been joined by Hogwarts Professors, house elves, centaurs, thestrals, and people Hermione did not recognize who she assumed to be Hogsmeade residents. As for the Death Eaters, it seemed they had been able to recruit the giants after all, along with what looked like trolls and acromantulas, not to mention the nearly full force of the Ministry's Auror and Magical Law Enforcement departments.

" _Imperio_!" Hermione managed to raise her shield just in time for the curse which had been aimed at her to rebound. She found the source of the spell quickly, and her eyes narrowed.

"You bitch," cried the woman. Her black hair was tied back in an uncomfortable looking knot at the nape of her neck, and she wore an expression of loathing so intense that, for a just a moment, Hermione wondered what on earth she could have done to earn such a look. And then, in a flash of revulsion and nausea, it came back to her. A man kneeling before her, her uncle, cowering in his own piss as he pleaded for his life, only to be murdered for having dared to touch her. And here before her, his widow.

"Catriona," Hermione called, standing straight and fixing the woman with an imperious stare, her wand still pointed steadily at the black haired woman. "I'm surprised to see you here. I would have thought you'd be left behind to manage the Keep."

"As if I would miss this opportunity," hissed Mrs. Avery, "to finish you and to blame it on the filth and rabble all around us."

Hermione arched a brow, side stepping a wizard who was blasted towards her by a hex and blocking an Entrail Expelling Curse as she closed the gap between herself and the woman her husband had widowed. "And you thought I would be easy to kill," she said.

"Look at you!" shouted the black haired woman. "Standing there bold as brass, dressed up like the Muggle trash you were raised to be. I am a pureblood witch!"

Hermione scoffed, testing the woman by shooting a stunning spell at her. Mrs. Avery deflected it with apparent ease. "And you think your blood means you're more skilled than me?" Hermione prompted.

"I don't think, I know," the older woman spat and then exploded into motion. " _Avada Kedavra_!"

Hermione ducked just in time, not bothering to watch the green jet of light as it sailed over head. Springing up, she shouted a spell over the cacophony of noise around her. " _Stupefy_!" The jet of light bounced harmlessly off of the woman's shield, just as it had before, but, this time, Hermione did not let her wand drop. " _Expelliarmus_! _Bombarda Maxima_!" The last of the three spells knocked the woman backwards, and her Shield Charm faltered. Hermione continued to advance, this time deflecting Mrs. Avery's curses rather than stepping out of their path. When she was within a few feet of the woman, and she had managed to rise to her feet again, Hermione bared her teeth. With another vicious jab of her wand, she knocked her uncle's widow back onto the ground, watching as the woman landed with a satisfying thunk.

"You forget yourself," Hermione hissed as she crouched down over the woman, her wand jammed against her throat and sparking against skin painfully. "You, Catriona, are nothing more than the left behind housewife of a disgusting man, who was such disappointment not even the Dark Lord would have him. You are _nothing_ to me, and it would cost me nothing to end you here and now."

Beneath her, Mrs. Avery struggled, her sense of self-preservation seeming to kick in at last as she raised her wand arm, only to have Hermione grab her her by the wrist and force her hand back down into the earth. Glaring, she plucked away the black haired woman's wand and tossed it into the battle still raging around them. "I think you forget whose blood runs through my veins," Hermione said, her voice low and her eyes alight with an anger she couldn't quite dampen. "I may be a Gryffindor, but the blood of Salazar Slytherin runs through my veins, the blood of the Dark Lord. You would do well to remember that the next time you imagine yourself capable of being anything more than a nuisance where I am concerned."

"You don't have it in you to murder me," Mrs. Avery whimpered, though her words were more hope than belief.

"Don't I?" As Hermione dug the tip of her wand deeper into the other woman's neck, she imagined it, the feeling of power that she knew came with holding another person's life in your hands. The thought, which at one time might have made her sick, only served to make her heart race faster now. Could she do it? She had been prepared, in her quarters, to end the life of the elf. Had Narcissa not beaten her to it, would she have followed through? Was she the type of person now, after everything she had been through these last five months, who could kill? Did she have that darkness within her? Was this her birthright?

She watched as the woman's eyes closed tightly beneath her, as she turned her face to the side, expecting that flash of green and the quiet death she had been threatened with… and in that moment Hermione realized the truth.

"Get up. And run." She threw herself backwards, standing with her wand pointed at the cowering Mrs. Avery who, once released, scrambled to her feet and darted off into the melee.

 _She was capable of it. Murder._

Hermione cast her gaze around now, looking for some sign of the people she had joined this battle to help defend.

 _She could kill, could force herself to say the words and end a life._

Spotting a familiar head of black hair several yards away, she raised her wand to begin clearing a path between the two of them.

 _But what she needed now, more than petty vengeance against a grieving widow, was her family. She_ could _kill, but there were more important things to do now._

0-0-0-0-0

She found him by accident. The crowd was thick and curses sounded on every side. She could not tell who was winning and who was losing, only that the cost was high, no matter what side you fought for. She stepped over several bodies on her way towards the flashing lights across the lawn, careful not to study them too closely and risk a spark of recognition which might distract her from the task at hand. She had to find him, had to get to Severus and stand with him before it was too late. And she was willing to wager that he would be in the thick of the battle apparently raging across the mass of writhing wizards and creatures.

She cut a path through the fights taking place all around her and saw Arthur Weasley out of the corner of her eye, a fierce look on his face as he dueled Yaxley, whose mask had fallen of and who was looking panicked. She paused to send a curse at the Death Eater's back, making him stumble and cry out just in time for Arthur's hex to hit him in the chest, blasting a hole clean through and spraying blood behind him as he fell lifeless to the ground.

Hermione continued onward, taking several quick steps before stumbling as her foot caught on something she hadn't seen. She cried out as she fell forward, just managing to twist her body enough as she dropped to avoid hitting her chin in the dirt. Groaning, she looked back, searching for the thing she had tripped on and furrowing her brow when she realized there was nothing there. Clambering to her knees and avoiding a centaur as it reared beside her, Hermione stood again, realizing as she felt herself brush up against something solid, that there had been something there to trip on. She reached down with one hand, careful to keep her wand trained in the same direction, and felt smooth cloth beneath her fingers. She grabbed it, pulling it up and feeling it slide over something large as she drew it away.

She saw his legs first, the part she had tripped over. They were covered in swaths of black, rune embroidered cloth, and her heart stopped beating in her chest as she realized just who was lying still and unmoving beneath the Invisibility Cloak she knew so well.

"No." She tossed the cloak aside, revealing the man beneath. She fell to her knees beside him, noting the blood which still seemed to be flowing from the jagged wound in his neck. "Severus!"

He was cold, his eyes open wide but seemingly frozen in place… She felt for a pulse, her hand slick with his blood, and found none. "NO!" She racked her mind for something to be done. Oh God. She hadn't any Dittany, and she didn't have faith that her small bottle could reach them through the battle raging all around. And he wasn't breathing, nor was his heart beating. Oh God.

She tried the only thing she could think of, a healing spell she had read about but never practiced. She focused all of her energy on the song-like incantation, closing her eyes and tuning out the sounds of the hundreds of duels around her, of the screaming giants and the pounding hooves of centaurs. She willed her magic to work, willed it from her heart to her hand and through the wand she clutched so tightly. She felt the heat of it, the soothing, familiar power, as it left her at her behest, settling instead on Severus, where he laid, still covered in his own red blood in the last dying light of the day. Time seemed to pass in slow motion as Hermione's wand began to vibrate in her hand, and when she had uttered the incantation for the last time, it seemed to stop completely. And then the moment was gone, and Hermione opened her eyes, looking down eagerly to meet her husband's gaze as he drew breath again…

But he was still not breathing… and there was still no pulse… and those beautiful dark eyes still did not seem to see her hovering over him. His wound had closed, the blood was gone, but he still laid unmoving on the ground, his black hair caked with mud.

She screamed, hot anger seeming to emanate from her in a thick wave as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him up to clutch against her breast. As she shifted him, a loud 'thunk' sounded, and she followed the sound through her bleary eyes until she found its source.

The sword was still gleaming, despite its position on the blood soaked earth. Hermione could see the reflection of the jetting curses around her in it's shining blade, and the jewels in its hilt seemed to reflect the light of the stars which dominated the sky above them.

Nagini had done this, Hermione realized. _Voldemort_ had done this.

She allowed herself only seconds more to hold him, to press her lips to his his, and to brush his hair off of his forehead with one hand. When she was done, she settled him gently back against the earth. She leaned over him, imagining for just a moment that he would wake and she would feel his arm wind around her waist… but he didn't, and so she grabbed the sword which had fallen from his hand, gripping it tightly as she rose to her feet. With a flick of her wand, she sent the Invisibility Cloak into the air for a brief moment, spinning as it descended and settled over the man she had given herself to body and soul.

When his body was hidden once more, she turned her back on it, forcing her gaze to towards where she knew the Dark Lord dueled. She walked with purpose, unhurried through the crush of people, all desperately shouting out spells as they looked to defend themselves from their enemies. She moved without shield or defense, knowing that in this battle, neither side would wish to attack her first.

By the time she reached Lord Voldemort, there was a ring of people surrounding him, watching as he dueled five wizards and witches at once. Hermione noted his fury as he shot curse after curse at the group, trying his best to fell Harry, who stood at the center, his glasses cracked on one side, his face wet with sweat and tears as he defended himself.

She knew the moment her father caught sight of her, she saw his face twist with anger at the sight of Gryffindor's Sword, still gripped tightly in front of her. And her response was instantaneous.

Her spine straightened, her chin lifted, and she let the sword hang loose in her hand as she shot a curse at Harry. He sidestepped the Cruciatus, but barely, and the people flanking him gasped, closing ranks as they saw her. Hermione watched dispassionately as Professor Mcgonagall, Molly Weasley, Remus Lupin, and Kingsley Shacklebolt all thrust Harry behind them, raising their wands, and with them a Shield Charm more powerful than any she had yet seen in this battle.

Hermione tore her gaze away from the grouping, from Harry who forced his way to the front of their group once more, looking at her with the oddest expression on his face. She looked at the Dark Lord, breathing heavily with a gash down one side of his face, his familiar, the snake who had killed her husband, hissing at his side.

"Father," Hermione said, meeting his gaze, taking a few short steps forward and stopping only two yards from him. She held out the sword then, finally dropping her gaze in deference to him as she offered him the blade, the hilt still loose in her hand. She listened as she waited, heard him breathing, heard Nagini hissing and slithering over the ground as she waited for some sign that he had accepted her offering. The crowd around them seemed to hold its breath, barely moving as they waited to see whether this girl in the Muggle clothing, her hair wild and tangled around her, would be allowed to live.

At long last, Lord Voldemort seemed to let out a single breath, stepping forward to meet her and reaching forward one hand toward the gleaming, ruby encrusted sword. At his side, Nagini followed, and as Hermione looked up to meet her father's gaze, she glanced briefly in the snake's direction.

"You have made a wise choice tonight, daughter," Voldemort said, his eyes glinting as the light of the shield behind her reflected in them.

Hermione said nothing, only waited for him to reach her, for his hand to reach for the blade. When his fingers where inches from the razor sharp edge, and the snake was no more than a foot from her, she moved.

Her hand tightened over the sword's hilt and she met The Dark Lord's gaze, smiling as his red eyes widened. She let the sword drop to the ground then, thrusting it forward and up with all the might she could manage, pressing past the resistance she felt as it bit into flesh, then bone, and finally as it swung free through the air again.

A collective gasp rang through the crowd as Hermione watched Nagini's head hit the ground, rolling as her great body spasmed and fell still.

"NOOO!" Voldemort shrieked, and as Hermione dropped the sword, she felt relief wash over her. She watched her father raise his wand, and then she let her eyes flutter shut as she pictured Severus' face, smiling in those rare moments of freedom they had enjoyed.

"Hermione!" She inhaled through her mouth, eyes flying open at the sound of Harry's voice as he ran towards her. She tried to tell him no, tried to raise her own wand to stop him, but before she could do anything, Voldemort was shouting, " _Avada Kedavra_!" and there was a flash of green light. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut tight again, waiting for the light to reach her, but when the ground at her feet shook, she stumbled forward, eyes opening once more.

"Harry," she whispered, her voice hoarse as she caught sight of his body, crumpled on the ground in front of her. At the sight of his glasses askew, her legs collapsed beneath her, taking her to the ground beside him as she spotted Voldemort just beyond Harry, his frame as still upon the grass as that of his opponent.

"Christ," she heard someone behind her utter, and then she finally allowed herself to cry.


	43. Finis

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for your beautiful reactions to the last chapter. Keep heart, dear friends, the end is nigh! Also... I accidentally added another chapter to the story, so you can expect another two, plus an epilogue, after this one. Unless something else occurs to me and I need to add another chapter. I'm bad at endings. Please thank when you see her around. You'll recognize her by her mad beta skillz and her beautiful soul.

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-Three: Finis**

 **October 31, 1997**

The world had turned upside down, and as the bodies of the two men at the center of the conflict laid breathless beside each other. Onlookers on either side watched with bated breath, unsure of what to do now that their leaders had been felled. On the ground beside Harry, Hermione blinked, trying to clear her eyes of tears as she wiped at her face with the sleeve of her jumper. Her senses seemed to return as she crawled forward over the short distance separating her from Harry. After a shaky breath, she reached down with one hand, pressing her fingertips beneath his jaw to feel for a pulse. She closed her eyes as she focused on the warmth of his skin beneath the pads of her fingers, trying her best to tune out the whispers and the increasingly loud laments around them as she began to count the seconds as they ticked by.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Come on, Harry." And then, gentle as the beating of a moth's wings, she felt something move against her fingertips. A single tap, weak and barely noticeable, but followed by another, and another, until at last she could feel a pulse, thready but growing more substantial by the second.

She let out a sigh of relief and turned to tell the people behind her, the ones who had been fighting alongside Harry, that he was alive… but as she turned, a movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, riveting her gaze. Just beyond where Harry laid, Lord Voldemort had moved. Hermione swallowed as she stared intently at his body, waiting for some sign of life to manifest itself. She did not have to wait for long, because within seconds his entire frame shook as he stirred, his red, snake-like eyes fluttering open and closed.

"No," she murmured, and looked back down at Harry, putting a hand on his shoulder to shake him. "Harry, get up. Get up, Harry!"

"My Lord!" Nearby, a man Hermione recognized as Pius Thicknesse dropped to his knees, reaching forward to help Voldemort to his feet. Panicked, Hermione cast her eyes about as she looked for something, _anything._ She saw it not a foot from Harry's hand, having apparently been drawn from the Dark Lord's grasp when the spell he had cast failed. The yew wand lay long and thin on the grass, and Hermione scrambled towards it without thought, clambering over Harry's body until she felt the slender stick beneath the palm of her hand. Pressing with all her might, Hermione ground her hand into the earth, feeling the wand strain and then give beneath the weight she levied against it. Finally, the thing snapped, emitting a few sparks from the jagged opening in its middle and burning her palm before it stilled, now just two broken sticks of wood and bits of red phoenix feather.

She looked up again, gauging how much longer she had before Lord Voldemort would realize what she had done. He was stumbling to his feet now, pushing Thicknesse away violently as he clutched his head with one hand. And as the people watching around them seemed to realize what was going on, as the Order members understood that this might be their one chance at Voldemort, the field broke into chaos once more. Behind her now, Harry groaned, and she turned to see him pushing up onto one arm, his face twisted in apparent pain. And then, as the Death Eaters began casting Shield Charms to defend themselves and their lord, and the Order members began to shout out spells and curses as they targeted Lord Voldemort, Hermione saw the glint of steel and jewels beside Harry.

The sword, still coated in Nagini's blood, lay glimmering in the moonlight. Hermione grabbed it without thinking, feeling its weight in her hand. She knew the Shield Charms cast by his followers would protect Lord Voldemort from the magical onslaught being waged against him long enough for him to commandeer a wand and rejoin the fray. She couldn't let that happen. She'd taken care of the snake, left it nothing but a heap of scaled flesh on the ground for what it had done to Severus… Now it was her father's turn.

She rose to her feet again with the sword in her hand. Her wand lay forgotten on the ground as her eyes found her target, now standing doubled over, his red eyes and snake like nostrils facing the grass. She took a step, then another, reaching Harry again as he got to his hands and knees, apparently feeling around the ground for his wand. She made to pass him, but before she could, strong arms encircled her from behind, pulling her back and pinning her arms to her sides, the sword now useless in her hand.

"Let me go!" she screamed, thrashing about as she tried desperately to jab her elbows behind her and flung her head backwards to catch whoever it was restraining her in the chin with a loud thunk. She had to do this, had to finish this before it was too late. She was the only one who could get to Voldemort in time, the only one the Death Eaters would hesitate before killing. "Get off of me!"

She felt the man restraining her rip the sword from her hand in one smooth motion and spin her to the side with his other arm. She stumbled, steadying herself on Harry's shoulder before whirling back to face her attacker, now clutching the wand she had deftly plucked from Harry's hand.

"Give that here!" she demanded, leveling the holly and phoenix feather wand at the back of the black robed man, "Give it to me, or I'll kill you."

She watched as he turned for just a moment to look at her, his long black hair brushing his shoulder as his black eyes met hers, and he shouted with a hoarse voice, "Stay!"

She dropped Harry's wand as her eyes widened, and before she could begin to comprehend what she was seeing, the man was charging towards the Dark Lord, the Sword of Gryffindor raised as it pierced the protective shield encircling him. He did not stop there, but continued forward, raising the sword over his head and screaming aloud. Lord Voldemort looked up and his face flashed with fear as the sword arched down and sideways, slanting at just the right angle to pass between his head and his shoulders.

The world stilled as the Dark Lord's head hit the ground, rolling down a short incline and coming to rest against McGonogall's foot. The only sound that could be heard as it finally stilled was a sharp cry that, Hermione realized after several seconds, had come from her.

"Severus!"

He met her gaze, the sword still in his hands, and she thought she saw the beginnings of a smile form on his lips before his knees seemed to collapse beneath him and he fell to the ground beside his enemy's body. His eyes rolled back in his head as he began to shake violently.

Hermione sprang forward then, running toward him as someone else shouted " _Stupefy_!" and she fell to the ground, losing consciousness as she shouted his name once more.

0-0-0-0-0

She woke up disoriented, her pulse racing as she sat upright in bed. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders as the blankets which had covered her fell to her waist. She looked down at the unfamiliar bedding, a light, powder blue that was rough under her fingertips. Her throat was dry, and she grimaced as she tried to swallow. Merlin, how long had she been asleep? Where the hell was she she? She glanced around the room, eyes still half lidded and bleary as she tried to shake off the grogginess weighing her down. She blinked against the stark light flooding in from the window opposite her bed until, at last, her vision seemed to clear and she could make out the details of her surroundings.

An uncovered window dominated the wall she was facing, a single pane which showed nothing but blue sky beyond it. Her gaze drifted from the window to the other walls. On her right, there was a clock and a painting of a vase full of pale jonquils. Behind them, she noticed that the wallpaper in the room was a combination of pale green stripes and purple flowers. On her other side, the wallpaper continued, broken only by a stark white cabinet and a sliding glass door which was partially obscured by a thick cream drape which ran on a track in the ceiling, obviously meant to give the room's occupant privacy.

As she stared bewildered at the door, a loud beeping seemed to filter through into her consciousness, and she jumped, looking around for the source of the noise. She found it on her bedside table; a fist sized glass orb which was glowing and beeping at an increasingly loud decibel. Before Hermione could begin to look for her wand to silence the thing, the glass door leading into the room slid open, admitting a prim looking woman wearing a precisely placed cap and a crisp white apron over a set of blue robes.

"Oh hush you," said the mediwitch, waving her wand at the orb to silence it before turning to face Hermione, wand still outstretched. Hermione flinched, leaning backwards and surveying the woman warily. At her reaction, the mediwitch gave a sympathetic smile and lowered her wand.

"I'm sorry dear," she said, "I'm sure you must be terribly disoriented. There's no need to worry though, you're safe here. You're at St Mungo's. We've been treating you for several days now. You took a stunner to the back and hit your head quite hard when you fell." Here, the woman reached forward, placing a hand on Hermione's chin and turning her face to the side so that she could inspect her. Hermione closed her eyes as the mediwitch assessed whatever injury she had. "All healed now, I think. You had a concussion, and we thought it would be better to keep you sleeping while we healed it."

Hermione swallowed again, this time trying to clear her throat afterwards. "What happened?" she asked, her voice hoarse. A confused look seemed to pass over the other woman's face as she conjured a glass of water and passed it to Hermione, who drank eagerly.

"What do you remember, dear?"

Hermione set the glass down on the bed between her legs, feeling the fuzziness in her mind as if it were a solid mass.

"Narcissa," she said, thinking hard. A vision of a house elf, a crumpled heap on the ground, swam before her eyes. "Pippy."

A knock on the door sounded before the mediwitch could respond, and Hermione glanced over just in time to see it slide open, admitting a skinny, black haired young man wearing denim jeans and a hand knit jumper in Gryffindor red and gold.

"Harry," she breathed, recognizing him and moving as if to rush towards him before being restrained forcibly by the mediwitch.

"Oh no you don't," she said. "Not until the Healer has had a chance to look you over."

"Hermione," Harry said, sounding surprised as he came quickly to her side. "I didn't realize you'd woken up! Thank Merlin. I was so worried!"

"This young man has barely left your side the past two days," the mediwitch noted, looking approvingly at Harry and then back at Hermione, who was allowing herself to be hugged bodily by her black-haired friend. "Now you two have a chat. I'll go fetch Healer Bellweather." And with that, the older woman left them, pulling the curtain closed over the door behind her.

"Blimey, Hermione. Am I glad you're doing better."

"Harry. What happened?" she asked as he released her, settling back to sit in the chair beside her bed. At her question, his brows knitted together in confusion.

"Don't you remember?"

Hermione shook her head before leaning forward to rest her face in her hands. Why couldn't she remember? She'd been trapped in the room until Narcissa had come for her, and then… then?

"We won," Harry said without preamble, and Hermione turned to look at him at once. "Voldemort is dead."

"Dead," Hermione breathed, her whole body flooding with relief and another emotion she couldn't quite name.

"The battle was awful, but we pulled through. Merlin, Hermione, you were brilliant."

"I was… I was there?" It was Hermione's turn to look confused, and Harry nodded, smiling now.

"Yeah. You were. You really don't remember any of it?"

Hermione thought hard, still dealing with the fuzzy feeling in her head that was buzzing between her ears.

"I remember…" What did she remember? Narcissa Malfoy, the elf, the cacophony of voices and exploding objects as harsh spells were cast around her. Mrs. Avery. "I almost killed her."

"Almost? Hermione you killed it. It's gone. _He's_ gone."

"What?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Nagini. You cut off her head. The last Horcrux."

"No," Hermione shook her head, "Not her. Mrs. Avery. My aunt. I nearly killed her."

Harry leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. "Are you remembering, then?"

Hermione nodded. "I think so. It's still all fuzzy. God, why can't I think?"

Another knock at the door echoed in the room, followed by the sound of it sliding on it's track. "Hello!" called a cheery voice, and the curtain blocking the new visitor from view swept to the side, revealing a middle-edged woman in a lime green robe with the image of a wand crossed over a bone embroidered on the upper right hand side.

"Healer Bellweather," Harry acknowledged. They had apparently met already.

"Mr. Potter. And Miss Granger. I must say it's a pleasure to see you awake. You gave us all a bit of a scare when you came in. Got a bit knocked around before the battle ended. How are you feeling?"

"I'm…" she paused, trying to put a name to this odd feeling of wrongness, of forgetfulness.

"She's having trouble remembering the battle," Harry said, keeping his voice low.

Healer Bellweather nodded and pulled out her wand to examine Hermione, sweeping it over her from head to toe before tilting her head to the side and letting out a soft noise of satisfaction. "All certainly looks well enough. I think any memory issues are likely temporary. Everything should return to you within the next day or so, though if it doesn't I'll be happy to perform more specific tests. In the meantime, could you rate your pain for me, on a scale of one to ten?"

Hermione thought for a moment, taking stock of her body and all the aches and pains she felt.

"Four," she said, noticing the dull throbbing in her side.

"I'm afraid that's the ribs." The Healer smiled. "I mended them, but they'll be sore for a few days yet. I daresay that's better than can usually be expected from being trod on by a centaur though.

"A centaur!?" Hermione gasped. Christ, she was lucky to be alive. If it had broken her ribs, it was very likely there had been internal damage as well. "What were my injuries?"

The healer sank down to sit on the bed beside Hermione's legs, patting her knee kindly. "Well, aside from the concussion from hitting your head when you fell after the Stunning Spell, I healed eleven broken ribs, several more bruised, a punctured lung, a lacerated liver, a broken wrist, and several external lacerations. Don't worry though, I fixed you up very well, if I do say so myself."

"How on earth did I live through all of that?" Hermione asked, trying to mentally calculate how long she could have lived with that many serious injuries before receiving medical attention. By her estimation, it wouldn't have been very long at all.

"After you were stunned, everyone went mad," Harry supplied as Healer Bellweather smiled kindly at him. "Voldemort was dead, but his Death Eaters were still fighting. Professor McGonagall did something to Voldemort's head; I didn't see what, but it seemed to properly piss off his followers. The Acromantulas swarmed and the centaurs went after them. One of them must have hit you on accident on the way, because next I saw, you were laying on your stomach all bloody and…" his voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "Sorry. It's hard to picture."

"What happened next?" Hermione asked, keeping her eyes trained carefully on Harry's face. He sighed and looked up to meet her gaze.

"Well, then I saw Snape. He—"

"Severus," Hermione interrupted, the name taking her by surprise. Severus. Where had he… "Oh my God, Severus." As Hermione lurched forward, memories assaulted her, flooding back through the haziness in her mind as she pushed the Healer aside and rose unsteadily to her feet. She closed her eyes against the suddenness of her memories' returns and the loud protests of both Healer Bellweather and Harry.

 _Severus. She had found him on the field, ice cold and lying as if dead on the bloody grass. She hadn't been able to wake him, hadn't been able to do more than mend the awful gashes at his throat… all for nothing. He was dead, and she was lost._

"Oh God," she said, her eyes prickling as she watched the memories play like a movie in her head, using her hands to shove away the two well intentioned people trying to calm her, to lead her back to the bed.

 _Strong arms stopping her, long black hair and those eyes… Stay… the beginnings of a smile on his lips before he had collapsed. Her scream._

"Severus!" she bellowed, barely noticing the warmth that was beginning to spread from the top of her head down her body, draining the energy away from her as her knees weakened and she fell into someone's waiting arms, still struggling, but barely, as her eyes floated shut and she whispered "Severus…" before falling asleep once more.


	44. Sorrow

**A/N:** I am so humbled by the reaction to this story. Truly. Thank you to each of you who have followed it, both reviewers and silent observers. I finished writing the last chapter yesterday, and will be starting the epilogue today. And can you believe that this story has 950 reviews!? It's a momentous occasion for me, and to celebrate, and thank you all for your constant encouragement, I'll be awarding a Drabble to the thousandth reviewer. And please send your love to , my dear beta.

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-Four: Sorrow**

 **November 7, 1997**

The wind in the garden was sharp and biting, but Hermione could not bring herself to leave the stone bench where she sat, her arms curled around her middle and her cheeks tear streaked. She couldn't face them like this; weak, sentimental, and hurting. So, instead of focusing on the pain, she focused on the foliage around her, noting the winter vegetables Molly had planted in the corner that were bordered by herbs.

The Burrow was largely unchanged since she had seen it last. Still several stories tall and slightly askew, it was the embodiment of warmth and solace that she needed. Especially today.

Sighing, she wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her robes. They were black to match the traveling cloak she wore, and unadorned by embroidery of any kind. They were plain, serviceable, well cut, and sombre, all traditional when one was in mourning. She watched a troupe of garden gnomes as they marched glumly from the edge of the hedge surrounding the garden towards an apple tree in the corner.

"Hermione." His voice was soft but reassuring, and as Hermione turned to face him, she smiled.

"Hello, Harry."

"Thought I might find you out here," he said, coming to sit beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder as he did. "Merlin, even the gnomes are in mourning. Look at them trudging like that."

Hermione could not help but let out a quick breath of laughter at that, but the brief flit of happiness was quickly followed by guilt and a fresh wave of tears. Harry held her as she sobbed, pulling her tight against his side and letting her tears soak his black robes as he rubbed her opposite shoulder with one hand. When at last she had exhausted herself, she sat up, and he loosened his grip, wiping at his own wet cheeks as she straightened her clothes.

"We should go in," she said after cleaning her face. "I'm sorry I was hiding. I just couldn't handle it yet. I know that's cowardly of me, but—"

"Not cowardly," Harry contradicted, and then paused, taking a shaky breath and wiping his reddened nose with the back of his hand. "I wasn't really ready yet either."

They sat in silence then, neither ready to make the first move to go into the Burrow and to face its many occupants, all eager to provide comfort.

The week which had followed the Battle of Hogwarts had been an exhausting marathon. For Hermione's part, she had spent a majority of the time hiding in the hospital. There, she had been able to avoid the media circus intent on interviewing her about the role she had played in the Dark Lord's downfall. Harry had not been so lucky as to avoid all of the reporters eager to accost him. Rather than giving in to their demands for photographs and statements, however, he had instead scheduled an exclusive interview with Rita Skeeter, reminding her in the process of her status as an unregistered Animagus and assuring her that the truth would be more valuable than any fabricated story she might consider publishing. Whether it was because of his newly minted status as The Boy Who Lived Again or due to his direct access to the new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Skeeter's article was shockingly free of embellishment.

After the _Daily Prophet_ published the article, hailing Harry as one of the heroes to defeat Voldemort and giving him a platform to demand time to recover for both himself and his friends, the media assault had diminished, leaving only a few tabloid photographers who refused to give up. These had been banned from the hospital, however, and Hermione had spent the previous day completely in peace, preparing for what she would need to do today.

Sighing, Hermione stood, shivering as she wrapped the cloak more tightly around herself and nodded at Harry. "Come on, you," she smiled wanly. It was time. They couldn't hide out here any longer without being missed, and the last thing either of them wanted to do today was cause a scene. Harry stood and put his arm around Hermione's shoulder again as they headed toward the back door of the Burrow, as if keeping that bit of connection would allow them to share their strength and, perhaps, have enough of it to do what needed doing without breaking down.

At the door, they paused, catching one another's gaze before breathing in deeply and pushing the door open.

The warmth of the kitchen hit her immediately as Hermione stepped into the room ahead of Harry. She took a moment to compose herself before glancing around. The first thing she noticed was that the counters and the table were all laden with food, still steaming, fresh, and untouched. As her eyes skated over the various dishes, she realized they were all of his favorites. Luckily, she was saved from dwelling on the fact by a soft, feminine voice which spoke from beside the stove.

"Zey are in zee livingroom," said Fleur as she forced a smile and continued to mash the potatoes on the stove. Her silvery hair flowed down her back over black robes which matched Hermione's.

"Thank you," said Hermione, clearing her throat and heading toward the front room, Harry at her heels. She kept her eyes straight ahead, avoiding looking at the food again.

The room they entered was full to the brim with black clad individuals, but hushed all the same. Hermione looked around the room before walking into the large group of people. She knew most of them, but there were a few faces she could not place. At last, her eyes landed on the person she knew she needed to speak to, and as Harry approached Ginny, taking her in his arms, Hermione moved through the crowd. When she reached the red-headed woman, she was staring vacantly into the distance.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione said, her voice soft and choked with emotion. She watched as Molly's eyes seemed to sweep confusedly over her for a moment before they flared with recognition and then grief. "I am so sorry for your loss," Hermione whispered. Eyes filled with tears, Molly nodded and reached instantly for Hermione, drawing her into her arms for a warm embrace as she responded.

"Oh, you dear girl."

0-0-0-0-0

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon at the Burrow, offering condolences to all the Weasley's and helping to keep them fed and comfortable. Ginny, who had been closest of the siblings to Ron, was, strikingly, the most capable of handling the many well-wishers who were not a part of the family's inner circle, and sending them on their way. After little more than an hour and a half only a few members of the order, Harry and Hermione were left with the Weasley's. Someone had opened a bottle of Ogden's and was pouring drinks for everyone present.

When her turn came, Hermione grabbed the shot, clutching it in her hand and watching the amber liquid ripple and then settle into stillness.

When every last person had a drink in hand - except Fleur and Tonks who each had a bit of juice rather than firewhisky - the group stilled completely, barely breathing as they waited for someone, anyone, to speak. At last, Harry cleared his throat, raising his glass as his other arm settled back around Ginny's shoulders.

"Ron," he said. Hermione raised her glass with the rest of them and echoed, "Ron," before draining the glass and wiping her eyes as she sniffled.

"Thank you all so much for coming," said Arthur at last, looking round the little group and smiling at each of them. "Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, Minerva…" He paused glancing upwards as if he were trying to compose himself. "Harry and Hermione. You are all our family. You know Ron… knew him. And I don't know how we could have made it through today without you. Thank you, for being here for us. For loving our son." His voice broke, and Bill put his arm around his father's shoulder as Molly began to cry again.

"You'll let us know if we can do anything at all for you," Remus said, approaching Arthur and leaning in to press his forehead against the other man's as he embraced him briefly. "Dora and I are only a fire-call away. Anything you need."

Arthur nodded and shook hands with Kingsley, who did not seem to know what to say but who embraced him all the same. As Tonks approached Molly, pulling her into a hug, Professor Mcgonagall stepped up to Mr. Weasley, grabbing his hand in both of hers as she gave him a small smile.

"Your son was one of the very best men I have ever had to privilege of teaching. He was a true Gryffindor, Arthur, and I will always remember him."

Hermione had to look away then, or risk crying again herself. She had to be composed for them, dammit, for Ron's family. For _her_ family.

At last, it was just them left, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley's, and once Mr and Mrs Weasley had been settled into their room with a strong pot of tea and two vials of Dreamless Sleep potion, Hermione took the opportunity to check on each of the children. Bill and Fleur were sitting with Percy and Charlie in the living room, all of them remembering Ron as a small child and speaking in low voices so as to not wake their parents. In the kitchen, she found Fred and George, both more sombre than usual and loading their plates with shepherd's pie, which she knew for a fact they loathed but had been a particular favorite of Ron's. Finally, she spotted Harry and Ginny through the kitchen window, sitting on the same stone bench upon which she had sought refuge before the wake. Ginny was obviously crying now, her head on Harry's chest as her shoulders shook and her red hair spilled out over Harry's black robes, stark in contrast.

Satisfied that Harry was there for Ginny, Hermione took one last look around before breathing in deeply and crossing to the fireplace. They would be okay for today, she thought, and there was someone else who needed her.

"St Mungo's," Hermione said as she threw the emerald green Floo powder onto the hearth and stepped into the flames which shot up. With a lurch, she felt herself begin to spin as she closed her eyes and said another silent farewell to her best friend.

0-0-0-0-0

The hospital was cold but familiar, and as Hermione made her way from the ground floor, up the wide staircase to the first, she nodded to several of the mediwitches who were rushing past her.

"Hello Mrs Snape," said the desk attendant in greeting. "How was the funeral?"

Hermione gave him a little smile and a nod. "It went well, Lester. His family is resting now. Thank you for thinking to ask. Has there been any change?"

"I'm afraid not, missus. Healer will be out of a consult over on the ward quick as you like, if you want to wait and ask though." Hermione glanced up to her right where the floors private rooms were housed before letting her gaze wander to the open ward on her left.

"I think I will, thank you," Hermione answered, and then took a seat in the small waiting area behind her. True to Lester's word, a tall, weathered looking man in lime green robes emerged from behind a curtain in the ward, carrying with him a clipboard and a Quick-Quotes quill to which he was dictating.

"Healer Flemming!" Hermione called, standing and taking a few steps toward him. Startled, the man looked up, his gaze narrowing as he spotted her before he sighed and moved to join her.

"Mrs Snape." He nodded at her, lowering his clipboard as he did so. "How can I help you this evening?"

"I was wondering whether you'd had an opportunity yet to review the research I left for you yesterday evening. I was out this afternoon, so I'm sorry if I wasn't here when you came to discuss it."

"Mrs Snape—"

"It's just that I think perhaps you might find the article interesting, considering the subject matter."

"Mrs Snape—"

"Muggles have done a great deal of study into this sort of situation, you see. Perhaps a fresh perspective is all you need."

"MRS SNAPE!" The Healer's raised voice echoed throughout the ward, causing several of the patients to peek around their privacy curtains before hiding again hastily when they saw Hermione looking back at them.

"Yes?" she responded mildly.

The Healer gritted his teeth and crossed his arms. "I am well aware of the papers you left for me yesterday, as well as the several books you had sent to my home, but I am a very busy man, Mrs. Snape, and I haven't the time to—"

"Do your job? Educate yourself?" Hermione supplied, cutting in with a tone she knew would have set even a Death Eater quivering. As if sensing the shift, the Healer's face reddened.

"To chase after these fantasy solutions you seem so fond of pursuing," he hissed.

Hermione laughed humorlessly, and behind them at the welcome desk Lester cleared his throat.

"I'm off for a cup of tea," he said, escaping down the stairs as Hermione watched him go before turning her icy gaze back on the man at hand.

"Mr Flemming," she said, her eyes raking from his head to his toes and back up again. "I am well aware that you are a trained healer, and that your expertise on the subject far outstripes my own, but when your solution to a difficult case is to tell me that there's nothing to be done… you'll forgive me, but there are many things I can abide, and lazy dismissals are not among them."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Now, given your refusal to even attempt to find an alternative to inaction, I expect you to remove yourself from this case and find me another healer who _is_ capable of extending themselves a bit. If you don't, I will make sure that the press is vividly aware of just how quickly you decided to give up on your patient and how dismissive you have been of me at every turn. Are we clear?"

Incensed, the man only nodded, and with one last withering look, Hermione turned on her heel, leaving Healer Flemming to stand spluttering in the middle of the ward.

Hermione reached the door to the private room quickly, sliding it open and disappearing behind it as she breathed a sigh of relief. Bloody healer. She'd been battling with him for the last five days to do more than just sit around staring and wringing his hands, and today she was fed up with his ridiculous refusal to entertain the idea of doing more than just waiting.

She dropped her cloak on the little table beside the door and crossed the room to adjust the daisies in the vase she had brought in the day before.

"You know," she said aloud, "I know you'd probably find these dreadfully common, and that you would mock me ceaselessly for bothering to put them here, but they really do look very pretty. And if you disagree, you can wake your arse up and move them yourself." Leaning down over the bed, Hermione brought her mouth to the ear of the man lying upon it. "Did you hear that, Severus? You can wake right up and vanish them all on your bloody own."

She waited several seconds for a response, and receiving none, sighed. "Or you can just keep sleeping," she continued, moving to sit in the chair beside his bed and grabbing his hand in hers. It was cool, and she leaned down to press her cheek against it as well. "But the longer you sleep, the less peace I'll let you have once you're awake. Really, you can never sleep in on the weekends if it means my waking up instead. You're forfeiting all of that." A pause, and she let her eyes flutter closed as her middle finger settled on top of the pulse in his wrist.

"Ron's funeral was today," she whispered. "I know you didn't care for him terribly, but God, I'm going to miss him. I barely kept it together the whole time I was there, and I just kept wishing you were there with me. Harry did a brilliant job comforting me, so you'll have to thank him for that, little as you'll like to, but it wasn't the same. He didn't snark at me, the way you would have, to pull me out of myself. He was just Harry. And just Harry is fine… but it's not you."

She thought she had finished with tears for the day, but a scalding tear trailed down her cheek and onto Severus' hand before she could stop it. It was followed by another, and she clenched her eyes shut tight to prevent any more.

"You can wake up now, Sev," she said, throat tight and eyes stinging as she spoke into the bed spread. "The healers say you're healthy. They've purged the venom, and I healed your throat somehow. All that's left is opening your goddamned eyes."

 _Don't be tiresome, Hermione. Dry your tears_.

His voice seemed to manifest itself in her mind, and she smiled for just a moment at the sound before sighing and looking up at him, still lying perfectly still, his black hair tied back into a neat bunch at the nape of his neck and his face expressionless in sleep.

"If you don't get up soon, I'll grow bored and paint your nails, you ridiculous man," she threatened. Seeing no response, she crawled up onto the bed beside him, curling herself around his larger frame and settling her head on his shoulder. "I'll be nice, though, and use a lovely, Slytherin green lacquer," she promised, and then breathed in his scent before turning off the lights with a wave of her hand.


	45. Free

**Chapter Forty-Five: Free**

 **November 16, 1997**

He woke up on a Sunday. The first thing he noticed was a warm weight against his hand. Reflexively, he moved his fingers, feeling them brush against an expanse of smooth skin. Immediately, something beside his arm shifted.

"Severus?" The voice was tentative yet familiar, and he gave a soft exhale before letting his eyes flutter open. It took some effort to raise his lids, and as he did so, the light was almost blinding. Still, he had heard her, and he would not let a little thing like excruciating pain keep him from seeing her now.

"Oh my God," she gasped just as his gaze landed on her at last. Her hair was a chestnut colored nest thrown hastily atop her head and fixed in place by her wand. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks pale as she seemed to stare at him in surprise, her mouth a near perfect circle.

"Good morning," he forced out past his dry throat and mouth, swallowing what felt like sand in his throat.

"Healer Vanderfax!" She sprang from her seat at once, one side of her face red from having been pressed against the bed beside him. She had shouted over her shoulder, making Severus wince before throwing herself bodily over his chest where she wrapped her arms around his neck and proceeded to pepper the side of his face with kisses.

Severus did not protest, though he realized, that even had he wished to, he was far too weak to push her away. How long had he been lying in this blasted bed?

"Oh Severus, Oh Merlin, you're awake! Jesus Christ!" She was babbling incoherently as she ground her hip accidentally into his groin, causing him to hiss in pain. "Sorry!" She winced, scrambling off of him but continuing to kiss every bit of his face she could reach as something to his right started beeping hideously. Experimentally, Severus lifted one arm, noting how it felt like jelly before deciding that he didn't give a damn and wrapping it around Hermione's waist to draw her nearer.

"Calm down, woman," he said, his voice hoarse, and as Hermione let out a tearful laugh the door behind her slid open.

"Mrs Snape, what on earth is- Good Lord! Mr Snape is awake, Cadrina! Get Healer Vanderfax here at once!" Immediately, the mediwizard who had entered the room flicked his wand at whatever was making the infernal beeping noise, silencing it before crossing to Severus' free side and beginning to wave his wand in familiar patterns over him. "When did he wake?"

"Moments ago," Hermione answered, still clinging to him, as if releasing her grip would somehow cause him to fall asleep once more.

"Did you do something to-"

"Nothing! I was just holding his hand and resting my head there, and he-"

"He is sitting right here, you know, and perfectly capable of answering questions himself." Sticky with sleep as his voice was, Severus thought he had still rather managed to sound at least a little intimidating.

"Yes, of course, Mr Snape." The mediwizard flicked his wand, and several numbers appeared in the air, fluctuating above Severus' arm as they created a tidy display of his vitals. "We're only surprised, is all. You've been sleeping for weeks now, and we hadn't thought… Well. We weren't expecting such a quick recovery."

Weeks. Had the man said weeks?

"What day is it?"

Hermione squeezed his hand in hers, pressing another joyful kiss to his cheek before answering. "November 16th. You've been in a coma for just over two weeks."

Circe, no wonder he felt so weak. He'd been wasting away in this bed, probably subsisting off of fluids and pissing into a tube for the entire time. Merlin, his head hurt. Severus let his eyes close but refused to release Hermione's hand, remembering as he studied the solid pressure of it against his own, the last look he had gotten of her before waking up here. Firmly, he pushed the memory away. There would be plenty of time to examine it later when he wasn't feeling like complete shit.

A soft shudder at his side drew his attention, and he allowed himself one more glance at the woman who had laid her head on his shoulder. She was crying, a smile on her face as she soaked his gown with tears.

"Have I disappointed you?" he asked, only half joking as he studied her for a reaction. She laughed, gripping his hand so tightly he thought she might break it.

"I don't think I've ever been happier in all my life, you arse," she said.

Satisfied, Severus allowed himself to relax against the pillow behind him again as the mediwizard continued to run his tests. Hermione's warmth at his side was enough.

0-0-0-0-0

His nails were green, and Severus was not happy about it. Scowling, he picked at the polish which clung stubbornly to his fingernails.

"Don't do that," Hermione chided. "You had, literally, the world's most perfect manicure for a whole week. It would be sad to see it ruined now."

"Was humiliating me in my weakened state strictly necessary?" he growled.

Hermione only shrugged, smiling as she took a bite of her dinner of chicken and roast potatoes.

With a huff, Severus dropped his hand, reaching for his own utensil which lay on a little floating tray over his lap. All they had given him was a spoon, which he supposed was a result of only allowing him weak broths and other truly disgusting concoctions.

Since he had woken several hours earlier, the room had been a flurry of activity. The mediwizard had been joined quickly by another, and finally by a young healer who had introduced herself as Healer Vanderfax. They had run a cadre of tests on him and followed it all up with a rotation of potions Severus had insisted on inspecting personally before imbibing even a single one. When at last they had left he and Hermione alone, it had been with strict instructions that he should eat and then rest. During the whole time, Severus had barely been given a moment to think, and now, as Hermione ate in silence beside him, he allowed the thoughts he had been pushing aside to return.

He took a sip of water and cleared his throat.

"Alright?" Hermione asked, looking up with a concerned expression. Severus nodded, setting his spoon down carefully and meeting her eye. Apparently, she saw something in his gaze, because she did the same, folding her napkin to dab the corners of her mouth before setting it aside. "I'm sure you have questions," she said.

"The Order won," he said, already knowing the answer but wanting that last bit of assurance. Hermione's radiant smile was all the answer he needed.

"Thank God," he said, letting his head fall back against the pillow behind him for just a moment before looking back at his wife. "Potter?"

"Alive and well," Hermione answered. Severus arched a brow and shrugged.

"Well, not all prayers can be answered, I suppose."

"Severus!" Hermione smacked his arm lightly, apparently aware that he was goading her. She continued. "Voldemort is gone though, thanks to you."

"Hmm," Severus hummed in response, lifting his spoon again and taking a mouthful of broth.

"That's all? Really? You kill the most powerful dark wizard in history, and all you can say about it is 'hmm?" Hermione looked absolutely incensed now, and Severus chuckled at the way her cheeks reddened.

"My condolences," he offered, and this time the smack on his arm hurt more than a little.

"Well, no one could possibly claim you woke up anything but your usual, infuriating self," Hermione snapped, and the sound of her voice as she scolded him made Severus feel happier than he had in a very long time.

"I thought you enjoyed that about me," Severus teased, and Hermione let out an exasperated noise in response. "Now, what else have I missed?"

Hermione made a production of rolling her eyes but summoned several newspapers from the table across the room, watching them arch through the air before settling neatly beside Severus' lap. "The headlines will probably do to get you up to speed," she told him.

Sighing, Severus pushed away the tray holding his broth and picked up the first of the papers, lifting it gingerly to peer down at the front page.

 _You-Know-Who Dead! Chosen One Triumphant!_

Severus scoffed. He'd lopped the Dark Lord's head off of his shoulders in front of hundreds of people, and _still_ Potter got the credit. How mundanely typical. He picked up the next paper on the stack.

 _Hogwarts Headmaster Brings Down Dark Lord!_

"Where did they get this?" Severus asked, pointing at the photo beneath the headline. It was a moving picture of himself, running at Voldemort with Gryffindor's sword and then swinging the blade downward. The image stopped just short of actually decapitating the Dark Lord, and Severus guessed it was a concession made to keep the paper from being too visually gruesome.

"Colin Creevey," Hermione answered. "I don't know what he thought he was doing taking photographs at a time like that, but I can't argue it didn't turn out well. I think the _Prophet_ paid him something like five thousand Galleons for rights to the picture."

He picked up the next paper.

 _Boy Who Lived Again Tells All!_

Severus scoffed and moved on to the next.

 _Country Mourns Fallen Heroes_

And across the entire front page, both above and below the fold, pictures lined the paper. Severus recognized a majority of the fallen. His eyes could not help but linger on each student he saw, both current and former. Lavender Brown, Michael Corner, Dennis Creevey… and he could not help but return his gaze to the image of the red haired, freckled young man in the top row.

"I am sorry about Mr Weasley," Severus said, his voice soft. "We were not friendly, but his loyalty did him credit, and I know that you were close… I wish that I had been here for you when they buried him."

At his side, Hermione blinked back tears and laced her arm through his. "Thank you, Severus," she said, taking the paper out of his hand and setting it aside. He kissed the top of her head and reached for the next _Prophet_.

 _The Snapes: A Love Story_

"That's actually not a terrible article," Hermione said, her tone teasing. "You ought to read it later."

"I think I'd rather bin the paper and then vomit, thank you."

"Here's the last I saved."

 _Severus Snape or Sleeping Beauty?_

"Now, that's just sad. Hadn't they anything else to write about that day?"

Hermione laughed as Severus dropped the newspaper off of the edge of the bed in disgust. Hopping up to sit beside him, she leaned her head against his shoulder. He thought he would be quite content to stay there with her cutting off circulation to his hands for the rest of his life. Sighing with contentment, he let his head rest atop hers.

"I was really worried," she said, her voice soft as it broke the silence. "I didn't know if you were going to… They told me you were fine, but that somehow you'd become magically depleted. They said they couldn't even sense it in you anymore."

"My magic?" Severus asked, surprised. Against his shoulder, Hermione nodded.

"They weren't sure whether you would wake. I went through three healers before Vanderfax finally came up with a theory that was worth a damn."

"And what did she have to say?" Severus' voice rumbled as he kept it low. Hermione shrugged.

"She thought it might have something to do with our bond."

"The bond?"

Hermione nodded and looked up at him, her brown eyes wide. "I told her what you said in front of the Chamber, about our blood being the same and our magical cores being bound to each other. She hypothesized that because of that connection, and because of your compulsion to protect me, you might have unconsciously given _me_ your magic. When you brought me here. To St Mungos."

"No." Severus shook his head, frowning.

"I didn't think so either," Hermione said, sounding relieved. "I thought if your magic were gone, the bond would have broken, but it didn't. I could feel it."

"It was not done unconsciously," Severus clarified.

"What?"

Severus closed his eyes, recalling as he did so the events that had transpired on that night weeks ago. God, his blood had burned, and he had been consumed by the darkness… He had thought himself dead. But then, like a white hot chain, he had felt the bond unfurl around his heart, pulling him up and onto his feet to stumble blindly, and despite the fire in his veins, he had made his way through the battle, clothed in Potter's cloak as he'd been drawn to her, just in time to see the sword flash in her hands, killing the snake. He had run then, knowing what would come next, but unable to stop it.

A flash of green and both Potter and the Dark Lord had laid still upon the grass. Then, all too soon, before he could do more than shed the cloak, they stirred again, and the urge to protect her grew even stronger, compelling him forward just in time to stop her, to rip the sword from her hand, and to finish the deadly job she had set out to do. And then, blessed blackness again for just a few moments before the bond, his blessed duty to her, had pulled him from the brink once more, urging him forward to find her bleeding and broken on the ground.

He did not have the skill to heal her, had barely the strength to lift her in his arms. He had prayed to any deity who would listen as he staggered to his feet. _Save her, dammit. Take me, let her live!_ He had felt the power in him begin to glow, and thinking quickly, he used the sudden surge to Apparate them both from the field. He had collapsed with her in his arms onto the floor of St Mungo's lobby, and as his head hit the floor, he felt the glowing power dart from his chest, down his arm, and through his hand into Hermione, who jolted once and then laid still.

"I intended to give you my magic. You were gravely injured. You needed the strength. And apparently it worked, because here you sit."

In apparent disbelief, Hermione raised a hand to cover her eyes before shaking her head and responding. "Merlin's great bloody beard, Severus! You're lucky you didn't deplete yourself entirely. What if you'd never woken up!?"

"Luckily for me, the bond makes the flow of our magic a two way street," Severus shrugged. "No doubt your constant proximity worked wonders for my miraculous recovery. I am curious to know, however, how I come to be in such good health. By all rights, I should be in much worse shape than I am now after my encounter with that bloody snake."

Now it was Hermione's turn to shrug, and she did so gracefully.

" _Vulnera Sanentur_ ," she said. "Harry told me about it after he and Malfoy fought earlier this year, and I glanced over it. I was surprised it worked, actually."

"That may have healed the wound, but the poison—" Severus mused.

"How much do you know about Muggle medicine?"

Severus furrowed his brow and frowned. "I am admittedly low on knowledge concerning the topic."

"Well, it's called a blood transfusion."

"That sounds pleasant."

"It's certainly not something to do for laughs," Hermione assured him, "but I didn't want your paralysis to become permanent if the poison circulated continuously and damaged your nerves."

"Thoughtful of you," Severus chimed in.

They sat in silence for several minutes after that, each of them lost in their own thoughts until something seemed to occur to Hermione, who looked up at Severus with her eyes shining.

"I only just realized what all of this means," she breathed.

"What's that?" Severus asked as he let his fingers run up and down the bare skin of her neck, curling in the loose tendrils of hair which had escaped their nest atop her head.

"I'll get to work for the Ministry!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The Ministry! I can work there! And not as some puppet of _his_ , but as a real, honest to God employee."

Severus frowned, confused.

"Don't you see how glorious it is?!" Hermione cried, the excitement still obvious on her face.

"Enlighten me," Severus drawled. Hermione huffed, but the smile stayed intact on her face.

"I'll be able to get a job doing something mundane at the Ministry," she said, more slowly this time, "and you can stay home, brewing potions for fun and… well, maybe staying home with a child some day…when we're ready."

And suddenly, Severus remembered the conversation they had had as they had brewed the potion which had been meant for her to take before the fertility ritual. Merlin, it seemed forever ago, a lifetime past. And yet, here they were now, nestled together in privacy, realizing together that the future they had once talked about only in the hypothetical, was now a very immediate possibility. The job Hermione had coveted could be hers, and the quiet life he had pictured… God above, it was within reach.

He had no idea what he had done to deserve this. By all accounts, he had lived a life of misery and betrayal. He had been equal parts loathsome and wretched to everyone with whom he had crossed paths. And yet, somehow, he had been gifted this moment, this glorious woman, and the freedom to enjoy the rest of his life with her, undisturbed by the chains which had held him captive in the past.

Humming contentedly, Hermione pressed a warm kiss to his cheek and pulled the little floating tray which held his meal back over his lap.

"Be a good lad now and finish your broth," she said.

He arched a brow in response but lifted his spoon all the same.

 _*** FIN ***_

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 **A/N:** I'm not crying, _you're_ crying. Thank you all for sticking with me throughout this journey. Your reviews and support have kept me going. And as always, thanks to oblivionbaby, without whom this story would be a pile of misplaced commas, and misspelled words. A short epilogue to follow soon!


	46. Epilogue

**A/N:** You guys. 1000 reviews! Originalanonymouse, look for a PM from me! And to everyone who followed this story and reviewed as they read, you have no idea how much your words meant to me. They kept me writing. They're the reason this epilogue exists. Thank you!

* * *

 **Epilogue**

 **October 31, 2007**

She was alone, and her footsteps echoed on the flagstones. She walked the length of the keep, peering into empty rooms as she passed. It was not until she reached the ball room— _the throne room—_ that she paused for more than a few moments. She could see it all spread out before her, the bowing and scraping Death Eaters all giving obeisance to him before turning their eyes on her. Speculative, wary, reverential. Powerful.

Her heeled boots echoed on the marble floor as she made her way towards the obsidian throne which dominated the room. She could see him sitting there in her mind's eye, the man who had nearly succeeded in killing her, who had thought to use her and twist her into something, _someone_ unrecognizable.

" _Bombarda Maxima_!" she cried, her wand pointed at the throne which exploded into a thousand fragmented pieces.

It had been so long. Ten years, and still she could see his red eyes staring at her approvingly. Even now, she could picture that glittering gaze as it watched her dance around this very room. She had thought that by coming here, she could put it behind her, destroy the evidence of her family history, and move on… but the excursion had proved the opposite. The horror of her summer in Midlothian, the horror of her heritage, could never really be erased.

Wiping at her eyes, she Disapparated, reappearing at the bottom of the hill upon which Keep Avery sat.

"I thought I might find you here."

Startled, Hermione turned to find Severus leaning against a tree several yards from her.

"How did you— oh never mind. I'll not apologize for coming if that's what you're looking for."

He sighed, moving to stand beside her and folding his hands behind his back.

"Hermione—"

"Please don't, Severus. I know what you're going to say, and I appreciate it… but I needed to do this on my own."

A pause and then, "I know that. You think I don't understand?"

"I didn't mean it that way."

"Hermione, I know what it is to be horrified by your own blood. The monster who spawned me was not so very different than the one who sired you, but for the power they held. I have been where you are."

"Severus—"

"I mean only to offer you companionship Hermione, not to discredit the things you still feel, or to cheapen them."

Hermione closed her eyes, reaching for his hand with hers and allowing herself to feel the truth of his words along with the warmth of his skin. This place was always so damnably cold. Every year when she came, haunted by the ghosts of the war, of the part she had played, she returned chilled to the bone, a fitting sensation which matched her inner turmoil.

"I keep thinking I'm past it all," she whispered. "Every year I think I've got it beat, and then October rolls around, and I'm right back where I was a decade ago."

"There is nothing wrong with the way you feel," Severus assured her. "You are a good woman, disturbed by the evil in this world, which at one point threatened to envelope her. I love you precisely because you fought against it, because you _still_ fight against it."

Hermione gave him a thin smile and squeezed his hand with her own.

"Thank you," she said after several minutes. "I'm ready now."

They raised their wands together, pointing them towards the castle. They watched as old wards began to sweep up from the ground near their feet, arching upward and inward to meet in a dome over the ancient structure. They viewed the castle through the shimmering wards until the glow in the air faded, leaving the view undisturbed.

Hermione let out a breath, visible in the cold air, and turned her back on her family's former stronghold.

"Cyril and Messalina?" she asked as they walked a short way together.

"With your parents for the night's festivities. I thought you might appreciate some time just the two of us this evening."

"Thank you," she said, and Severus squeezed her hand in response, pulling her close and wrapping one arm around her waist.

"I love you," he reminded her, and as twisted and dark as she felt inside, the words still made her heart leap with joy and a small, grateful smile bloom on her lips.

She kissed him, one hand threading through his hair and pulling him down to meet her. His mouth was warm over hers, and as she felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips, she was reminded that though this haunted feeling which plagued her today may last for the rest of her life… there were other things, _stronger_ things, that would last well beyond.


End file.
